


No Easy Comfort

by Darkness_Rising



Series: Comfort [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con References, Rough Sex, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkness_Rising/pseuds/Darkness_Rising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Vortex is singled out for Megatron’s punishment against Bruticus, Sunstreaker feels a need to take care of the Combaticon in order to prove himself to Vortex, in various ways. But the relationship between Vortex and Sunstreaker is a confusing one, neither willing to acknowledge how they truly feel towards one another, and caring for Vortex is a precarious job, one Sunstreaker is sure he will mess up, especially when his lover’s mental state is shaky at the best of times. (OOC) H/C as requested by Acidgreenflames</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AcidGreenFlames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidGreenFlames/gifts).



> **Title:** No Easy Comfort  
>  **Author:** Darkness_Rising  
>  **Series/Verse:** G1  
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a piece of fiction. No harm was intended in the creation of this work. All rights belong to the original creators.  
>  **Warnings:** non-con alluded to, sticky sex alluded to, and OOC-ness, which goes without saying when you cross two volatile mechs and comfort  
>  **A/N:** Witten especially for Acidgreenflames after she asked, a few months back, for some Sunstreaker/Vortex Hurt/Comfort, with Sunstreaker providing the comfort. Unfortunately the muse did die a bit on it but after finally coming back, this story had completely run away with itself and this is just the first 11.5k words or so. 
> 
> With regards to the pairing, between Acidgreenflames and myself, we have created a little world containing two pairings, Sunstreaker x Vortex and Sideswipe x Onslaught. It all started out with a bit of banter via twitter which turned into RP via text messages and now has exploded into a series of fanfics, not all of which will be related to our RP, but the basis of the beginnings of their relationship is explained in the livejournal page we have set up specifically for these pairings twinsxcombats http://twinsxcombats.livejournal.com/764.html

Onslaught had only been able to watch on as Megatron unleashed his wrath at the gestalt on a single mech; it had been collectively that the Combaticons had been at fault, letting the Autobots gain the upper servo and resulting in Megatron calling a hasty retreat, but the Decepticon leader knew the best way to hurt a gestalt, was to make them watch on as one of their own was singled out for the punishment.

The twisted mech never tired in treating his gestalts in this manner. It was a little reminder that no matter how powerful they were in their combined form, that he, Megatron, was still their commander, still owned them, both in processor and frame.

This time it had been the turn of Vortex, however there was no pattern, no order to the way Megatron chose his victim, it was simply who happened to be the closest to the warlord at the time. The Combaticons knew how this worked and the heli-former had not been quick enough in ensuring he was nowhere near the Decepticon leader when his fury hit; Onslaught wondered sometimes, if Vortex deliberately courted Megatron’s attention in some sick sort of game.

Sometime later, Onslaught carried his abused interrogator down the ramp and out of Blast Off’s shuttle mode. This cycle Megatron had been especially brutal and the rest of the gestalt had honestly believed the larger mech would kill Vortex at one point. Of course, to begin with, the crazed Combaticon had not helped his cause, practically goading Megatron into beating him near senseless, daring him to take him and laughing maniacally as a large servo wrapped around his throat; but now the maniacal laughter was no more, now Vortex was a quivering wreck in his commander’s arms.

None of the Combaticons spoke after they set off for their own base. Neither of them knew how to comfort Vortex, and all were relieved that it was not them in this state. Brawl and Swindle exited the shuttle ahead of Onslaught, both scurrying away to do whatever they did after incidents like this, and the moment that Onslaught stepped off the shuttle ramp, Blast Off transformed, his optics sliding over the battered mech before grunting and disappearing into the base, leaving Onslaught alone, cradling Vortex in his arms. Suppressing a vent, the commander headed inside and he wondered just how he was going to fix the heli-former after this one.

Just like the rest of the Combaticons, Onslaught could not say that he was a believer in Primus, not after what they had all been through at the servos of Shockwave, and now went through whilst serving Megatron, but that did not stop him thinking that their so called _Deity_ was looking down on him right at that moment when ruby and gold forms materialised in front of him, silently slipping from the evening shadows that stretched across their small island. An unexpected relief surged through the commander on seeing them, but still reeling from the punishment inflicted on Vortex, Onslaught’s response to their arrival was surlier than he intended it to be. “How did you get here?” 

The twins looked momentarily chastised before their worry settled back on their faces. “Ship.” Sideswipe muttered, knowing Onslaught would not be at all happy. 

“How many times have I told you to _stop_ commandeering ships to sail over here? You risk our discovery every time you do that.” The Decepticon vented in annoyance, he was too tired for this argument. Usually he or Vortex transported the twin front liners over to the island, by pre-arrangement, in order to stop their stealing of ships from the port to sail over.

“We were worried.” Sunstreaker growled, his optics never leaving the whimpering mech in Onslaught’s arms, Vortex so deeply withdrawn into his processor, muttering undistinguishable worlds, that he did not acknowledged Sunstreaker, and was unlikely even aware that the Autobot was even there. “We waited at our spot but neither of you showed. Seems we were right to be worried.” Servos clenched and unclenched at Sunstreaker’s sides. He wanted to touch Vortex, let him know he was there, but the golden twin was still reserved in showing his affections for the interrogator in front of others. 

“What happened?” Sideswipe asked, looking up at Onslaught hesitantly, confusion sweeping through his energy field. “You were all fine when you left.” They had seen the Combaticons leave the battlefield, scratched and dented but otherwise uninjured, so how Vortex had come to look near dead was beyond him. The ruby Autobot knew Onslaught could be violent, had been towards certain gestalt mates on occasion when they needed controlling, but to this degree?

Onslaught fully understood the question that was not asked, and was surprised to find himself more than a little hurt that Sideswipe thought that he had done this to Vortex. Sometimes he despised the feelings the Autobot could draw from him, even unintentionally. He was not meant to be soft, or feel the need to make someone happy. He was a commander, a tactician, part of the brutal force that was Bruticus. But when Sideswipe was around something deep inside of him was unlocked, and he felt weakened.

Occasionally the Decepticon wondered if this was some sort of Autobot ploy, to break the gestalt, render them useless to Megatron, but those thoughts were soon forgotten when Sideswipe was bringing him pleasure in ways that blew his processor. He also had to admit that Vortex had become easier to live with too, since striking up…well whatever the interrogator and Sunstreaker would call it.

“Megatron.” Was all Onslaught offered as an explanation. Despite what was going on between the four, the twins did not need to know the specifics of the way Megatron ran his faction, after all, the twins were still Autobots and they still fought bitterly for their own side, and all four mechs knew that one cycle they may have to make the hardest decisions of their lives when in battle.

Both of the twins looked at Onslaught, their horror etched clearly for all to see. They knew Megatron did not treat his forces with any respect, treated them as his toys as well as his punching bags, they had witnessed for themselves how he took his wrath out on his soldiers, but this…Vortex looked as though he had been dismembered and put back together again, badly.

Anger flared through Sunstreaker, his EM field splaying wildly and encasing all who stood there. “I’ll kill him!” He snarled. “I’ll rip his spark out and kill him!”

The commander raised a hidden optic brow. “You and who’s army Sunstreaker?” Onslaught knew that the Prime would never allow his Autobots to go and hunt Megatron down to specifically kill him, even less so because of something like this. 

Sunstreaker furled his lip up at the Combaticon while Sideswipe mentally held him back. _~C’mon Sunny. D’you want him to send us packing?~_ Knowing Sideswipe was right, Sunstreaker backed down with a soft snarl, but his optics glowed with hatred for the mech who had done this to Vortex.

With Sunstreaker’s outburst, Vortex shifted in Onslaught’s arms, his helm turning to the twins. When his optics landed on Sunstreaker’s familiar form, his cracked visor brightened for a moment before becoming dull again. Sunstreaker felt the urge to touch rear within again but before he could, Onslaught turned away from the pair and headed inside. “Come if you are coming.”

Without hesitation, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker followed.

“Who will treat him?” Sideswipe wondered aloud. There was no medic on the island and he was unaware of any of the Combaticons having medical training. He was not even sure if Decepticons had basic field training as from experience, the Decepticon way was to just walk away from the injured, deeming them a burden.

Keeping his optics forward, Onslaught clipped. “Hook has already repaired the worst of his wounds. His self-repair can take care of the rest once I’ve cleaned him up.”

The twins glanced at each other. It was also a known fact that the Decepticon’s had no true medics amongst them, some of them just adopting the role of medic as and when needed, but until now the twins had never really thought about it. If either of them had been in this state, Ratchet would have no qualms about strapping them to a med berth to ensure they were healed properly.

Onslaught could feel the shock in their energy fields. “Don’t be so shocked, we’ve managed this long. You Autobots are too soft.”

Sideswipe physically held Sunstreaker back this time.

A sound that could almost be a chuckle floated from the commander. “And sensitive it would seem.”

A deep growl echoed down the corridor in response before the small party halted in their tracks. They had arrived at a small room at the back of the base and when the lights came up, the twins saw the hard metal berth in the middle of the room. Looking around they spied a servo-full of items they recognised from their own med bay back at the Ark, but the contents in comparison were sparse. There were no monitors to be seen and no surgical equipment other than a few small servo-held instruments. Their medical cabinets only just contained the basics, such as sterilising fluids and rust treatments to say the least.

“This is your…med bay?” Sunstreaker asked incredulously as he took in the meagre scene. He was no fan of the med bay but his life had been saved in one on many occasions, so appreciated the need for such a place.

Laying Vortex on the med-berth, Onslaught replied. “It suits our needs. It is not as though we have a medic here. Any serious injuries are dealt with aboard the Nemesis.” The commander was now at one of the glass cabinets, selecting the items he wanted.

Vortex lay curled up on his side, his surprisingly undamaged rotors quivering violently whilst his servos scratched at his helm. Onslaught returned to the berth and placing the items on a trolley there, his optics followed the line that Sunstreaker’s optics bore. “Megatron would never touch his rotors. He isn’t stupid, if Vortex cannot fly then he cannot fight with us, and if he is missing from the battle field then so is Bruticus.” 

Both the Autobots and Onslaught flinched at that last comment. Despite the connection the twins had developed with the two Decepticons, it was with the individuals that they had _relationships_ with, not Bruticus. The mammoth combiner was another entity entirely, one who barely knew who the twins were, other than they were the enemy. 

Just as Onslaught began to sterilise the cuts on Vortex’s plating, Sunstreaker found himself speaking up. “Can I do that?” The golden Autobot wondered where the Pit that request came from.

Startled at the question, Onslaught’s helm snapped up. “I do not think that would be a good idea Sunstreaker.”

Sunstreaker’s servos fidgeted for a moment before he clamped them into balled fists. “Please.” He would not beg but he felt this was something he should do for Vortex. “Let me take care of him.”

Onslaught felt apprehensive at the request. Could he trust Sunstreaker? Trust him not to disable his interrogator whilst he was down. Then there was the question of whether or not the Autobot could handle Vortex when he finally dragged himself out of that dark place, when the wild Combaticon became…well wild. “Do not be fooled by his reticence, this is just the first stage in the way he deals with this. When he finally comes to his senses he will barely be controllable.”

Sideswipe knew how much Sunstreaker wanted, needed to do this, and he understood why. It all came down to trust. They all had to put a level of trust in each other for this to work, but everything was still new to them all, the feelings that sometimes they refused to acknowledge, and the trust.

Sideswipe moved to Onslaught’s side, resting a black servo on his arm. "Believe me Slaught, Sunny is more than capable." There were some stories Sideswipe was not ready to share with his Decepticon lover quite yet, so he left it there. "Besides," he added. "I can feel in your energy field how exhausted you are. You need to rest too."

The commander snorted. "I only rest when my team is taken care of." 

The ruby Autobot cocked an optic ridge. "And how can you take care of them if you don’t take care of yourself?" Onslaught went to argue but Sideswipe did not allow him the chance to. "Let Sunny do this, it'll be good for both of them, and let me take care of you."

Onslaught looked back at Sunstreaker, the front liner’s dark cobalt optics full of the concern he held for Vortex. For a moment the commander was torn between the idea of laying in his lover’s arms and Vortex's welfare, but there was nothing in Sunstreaker's demeanour that implied that he would harm the currently incapacitated Combaticon. A servo squeezed Onslaught’s arm reassuringly, and hoping he would not live to rue this decision, Onslaught handed the cleaning cloth and sterilising solution to the golden front liner. "If he becomes uncontrollable, you call Sideswipe.” Sunstreaker nodded, his twin already telling him the same thing through their bond. 

As Sunstreaker went to pull his servo away with the items Onslaught had handed him, the larger servo uncomfortably gripped his for a moment. “And if I find one mark on his frame that suggests you have done _anything_ but take care of him, I will have your spark." 

Sunstreaker looked down at the battered frame, a sarcastic comment on the tip of his glossa about how any damaged Sunstreaker could inflict, if he wished to do so, would be unseen for more reasons than one, but Sideswipe kicked him through the bond before the thought could be expressed in words. _~Are you dull as well as dangerous? He's trusting you with one of his injured mechs, don't push him for the sake of it.~_ Again, Sunstreaker knew his twin was talking sense and pulling his servo out of Onslaught’s hold, the front liner clutched the items handed to him against his chest and waited for his brother and the commander to leave.

Finally alone, Sunstreaker walked around the berth so that he was in Vortex's sight; not that the Decepticon would see him as his visor was dark, optics obviously shuttered while he blocked the outside world from his vision. A myriad of thoughts and images filtered through the interrogator's processor, some new, some old, all bad. His clawed digits continued to scrape at his helm as he murmured incoherently, Sunstreaker only able to understand the odd word as the Decepticon used an unfamiliar Cybertronian dialect.

"Tex." Sunstreaker's tone was soft. He did not want to startle Vortex in case the mech had not realised that he was here. "Tex, it's me, Sunny."

The mumbling paused for a moment before resuming and Sunstreaker had no idea if Vortex had even heard him, let alone understood. Glancing up at the door, ensuring the other two had indeed left, the Autobot suddenly started a chorus of clicks and chirrups, the kind he reserved for Sideswipe. He guessed if it worked at calming Sideswipe down when he had needed it, it might just work on Vortex. The only thing he had to lose was his fearsome reputation.

At first the sounds seemed to have no effect on the curled up Decepticon but then slowly, as Sunstreaker continued, Vortex released his helm from his own clutches, turning towards the sound. His lips behind his mask stilling, the words he had been quietly chanting, fading away as dull light filled his visor.

For a few more kliks Sunstreaker continued with the sounds, and when he was sure he held Vortex's attention, he unhurriedly placed the bottle and cloth he held on the trolley, speaking as smoothly and as confidently as he could; it would be dangerous to show the Decepticon any weakness at this moment. "Hey there Tex, how's about we take that damaged visor off, help you see a bit better?"

The very visor the front liner spoke of flickered, the only response that Vortex gave. Slowly, ensuring his servo was in the Combaticon's line of sight, Sunstreaker reached towards the visor as he listened out for the gentle release of catches to indicate that Vortex had released the upper part of his mask from his helm.

Vortex's entire frame flinched as Sunstreaker moved, and he looked as though to cower under the raised servo. Sunstreaker quickly pulled his arm away. "I'm sorry Tex. I didn't mean to scare you." Growling in response, the Combaticon muttered something that sounded very much like _I’m not fraggin’ scared of you._

Intense cobalt optics stared down at the injured mech. "You should be Decepticon." Sunstreaker’s tone was firm but a small smirk curled in one corner of his mouth. 

Anyone listening in would be forgiven for thinking the Autobot was threatening Vortex, but this was just a little game they played between them, each reminding the other they were still on opposing sides whilst at the same time, they usually intended to frag each other senseless.

In the silence that followed, the small sound of the visor unlocking reached Sunstreaker’s audials. “Now was that so difficult?” He taunted. Receiving a snarled reply, the front liner’s smirk increased. “You’re far too easy to wind up Tex.” Somehow, Sunstreaker managed to keep his smirk on his lips but his spark sank at the darkness in the heli-formers optics. He knew that look, had seen the haunted look on his twin, and he knew Vortex was not completely there; he was hiding, in denial.

Rather rapidly Sunstreaker wondered what he had let himself in for. He was not emotionally equipped to deal with this, not with Vortex. It has been a long time since Sideswipe had needed this level of care as his twin had learnt to control his inner conflict after they left the rings, but he himself was still a loose cannon, and now he trying to console a mech who was half crazed at best.

Just as the Sunstreaker was going to tell Sideswipe he had made a mistake, that he could not take core of Vortex, he heard the Combaticon call his name.

“Sunny?” Vortex’s vocals were hesitant, questioning, as though Vortex was just realising it was Sunstreaker who was with him.

The front liner focused back on the mech on the berth. “Yes Tex, it’s me.” Sunstreaker rested his servo on the side of Vortex’s helm, his thumb rubbing against the battle mask that remained closed. “I’m going to take care of you.” Sunstreaker’s uncertainty vanished as Vortex stared at him intently, damaged servo settling over his whilst the Decepticon pressed his helm into the touch.

Vortex remained silent, his optics still dark, but he gave a tiny nod in acknowledgement.

Sunstreaker had spent a lot of time under Ratchet’s care, had seen in him action with other injured Autobots and the one thing he had noticed was that when a mech was traumatised, the CMO would talk through whatever he was going to do, ensuring that no movement, no touch was unexpected. The Autobot was not sure he would get this right, but it was worth a try.

First of all Sunstreaker needed to clean the cuts and grazes on the Combaticon’s plating, ensuring rust did not set in before Vortex’s self-repair could heal the lesions. Keeping his optics locked on the interrogator, Sunstreaker gently spoke. “Tex, we need to get these cuts cleaned up. Will you let me do that?”

Dim crimson optics flickered briefly before Vortex nodded again, giving Sunstreaker the go ahead.

“You’ll have to let my servo go.” Sunstreaker intoned. Part of him wanted to leave his servo where it was, let Vortex take the comfort, but to leave the wounds untreated meant irreparable damaged could soon set in.

Clawed fingers gripped tighter at Sunstreaker’s servo before the heli-former eventually slackened his grip, letting his Autobot lover do what he needed to do.

“Okay.” Sunstreaker started as he reached for the sterilising fluid and cloth again. “First I’ll clean these cuts. Make sure there’s nothing there that shouldn’t be.” He mimicked Ratchet. “It’ll sting but I’ll be as careful as I can be.”

Vortex gave no response. Instead he started his mumbling again, reverting back to the unfamiliar Cybertronian dialect he had been using, his barely focused optics watching every move the front liner made.

Frowning at the mumbled words, Sunstreaker began to work on the cuts. Some were just minor grazes and others cut deep, deep enough to damage the protoform underneath. Not feeling comfortable with treating such precariously placed injuries, Sunstreaker instead poured a little more solution to these areas, hoping the liquid would work its way through to the plating beneath.

Whilst Sunstreaker gently tended to Vortex's wounds, the Decepticon never once took his optics off the golden mech, the dark orbs observing the Autobot; his gentle ministrations so very different to his actions in the battlefield. In battle, Sunstreaker would not think twice about facing up to and striking down his foe, yet here he was, his lover, gently taking care of him. 

It unnerved the Deception, he never knew what to do with kind words. When he and Sunstreaker came together, they were as feral as one another but there were undertones of something else there, something both of them were completely aware of, but neither were willing to admit to.

Sunstreaker felt the dull crimson optics staring at him, as though they were burning into his plating, and he tried to ignore them for as long as he could, centring all his concentration on cleaning every last gash in the dark, battered plating. But in the end he could not resist the pull they had on him, so he offered a glance, his cheek plates warming in his embarrassment with the intensity at which Vortex stared at him. “What!" He almost snapped. Not really annoyed at all but just a little...perturbed by the look. They had come to mean so much to each other in such a short space of time, neither really knowing what it was they had going on between them, besides the damn good fragging sessions, but the way Vortex looked at him at that moment..."What is it Tex?" This time he spoke more gently, in hope that the injured mech would actually answer him with words as Vortex had not uttered a word since their moment of light sparked taunting of one another.

When the Decepticon did not answer, Sunstreaker vented but instead of pushing him, he asked the heli-former to turn onto his front. "I need to get a better look at your back Tex, can you turn over for me?" He felt like he was speaking to a youngling but Sunstreaker did not know how else to treat the Combaticon. Sure, he had taken care of Sideswipe many a time, but that care came easily to him, second nature, but now he felt he was flailing against the wind. He knew Vortex could be unstable at the best of times but he had no idea how the Decepticon would react to him should he say, or do, the wrong thing.

The Decepticon hesitated for a moment, uncertainty and distrust flaring through him. If he was laid on his front he would be more vulnerable, unable to fight Sunstreaker off should he decide to attack him, take him from behind. With his visor lying on the trolley next to the med berth, Vortex was unable to hide the sudden fear that crossed his face, but even in the dark recess of his processor he did not honestly believe the Autobot would attack him; Sunstreaker was _not_ Megatron, Sunstreaker was currently taking care of him.

The front liner saw the fear that passed across the partially unmasked face and he did not like it one bit. "Talk to me Tex, tell me what happened." Sunstreaker's optics slid down to the dented interface panel that until now, he had kept both his servos and his optics away from. "Tell me Tex." he whispered, almost afraid to ask.

When Vortex did not respond, other than turning his helm away, finally taking his optics off the golden Autobot, Sunstreaker brought his own optics up from where they rested. He knew pushing the heli-former would not get him anywhere, pit, he was the same, so he decided to leave it, for now. Realising that asking Vortex to lay on his front was asking him to put himself in a vulnerable position, instead he encouraged the smaller mech to sit up, he would tend his wounds that way. 

"Come Tex." He cajoled. "Sit up for me."

Vortex looked at Sunstreaker again, unsure of what he was planning to do but more than anything, he wanted to trust the Autobot. Watching Sunstreaker for a few more silent moments, the Decepticon's released warm wafts of air from various vents over his frame, tense cables creaking as he tried to relax himself before allowing his lover to help him up.

Sunstreaker took it easy, _one step at a time_ he thought to himself as he made sure his movements were slow and precise, and he was in Vortex's view at all times. Once Vortex was seated, the Decepticon held onto the well maintained servos for longer than necessary, finding he did not actually want to let go. Sunstreaker gave Vortex a gentle squeeze while offering him a small smile. "It's going to be okay Tex." His words were soft. "I'm going to take care of you." There was barely a nod in response before Vortex finally loosened his grip on the front liner’s servos so that Sunstreaker could continue to treat his injuries. 

"Tex, I'm going to take a look at your back now, but I'll need to do that from behind." Sunstreaker continued to impersonate Ratchet’s behaviour, remembering to tell Vortex what he was going to do. There was another small nod before the front liner picked up the cloth and sterilising fluid before disappearing from the Decepticon's sight. 

Taking in the injuries covering Vortex's back, and just like Onslaught had said, his rotors were untouched, still perfect, Sunstreaker's tank roiled in what he saw. The back of the Combaticon's shoulders were covered in bite marks, plating deeply torn allowing Vortex's protoform to glint through the fresh wields. As his optics travelled down back plating, there were a multitude of gashes, just like those that covered his front, just like those made by an energon whip. Then Sunstreaker's optics landed on the boxy grey hips of the heli-former, plating decorated with imprints of a pair of large servos, servos that had gripped tightly, holding Vortex in place.

Vortex shifted uneasily in his discomfort at having the Autobot behind him, not knowing what he was going to do. As he moved, Sunstreaker caught sight of scrapes and scratches covering his aft, scratches indicative of metal on metal, grinding, scraping, the view making Sunstreaker sick to the pit of his tank.

He knew Megatron used his mechs to feed his own desires, with or without their consent, knew Vortex had been the warlord’s berth warmer on several occasions, never through choice, but knowing these things was one thing, seeing the evidence of these acts was another entirely. "Oh Tex." He vented, unable to stop himself. Sunstreaker knew Vortex would not accept his pity but the Autobot could not control the strangled sound that left his throat. 

Vortex shifted his frame again, his servos clenching tightly to the edge of the cold hard med berth, and finally he broke his silence, his vocals cold and hard, angry. Angry for what he had been through and angry that Sunstreaker pitied him. "Just get the frag on with it Autobot!"

The biting words brought Sunstreaker out of his thoughts, out of his pity, and shaking his helm clear of his thoughts, he pulled himself together. In his sudden haste, Sunstreaker forgot to tell Vortex what he was about to do, and the moment Sunstreaker laid a servo on the first of the gashes on the damaged shoulder plating, Vortex flinched away violently.

Flying off the berth, the heli-former swung around, his momentum propelling him forward and sending him across the berth that separated them, crashing into the golden Autobot. Ordinarily Sunstreaker would have held his ground but he had not been prepared for an attack, his frame too languid. Colliding with the hard ground, the air was knocked clean from Sunstreaker's intakes and while he fought to catch a vent, the Decepticon closed the distance between their faces, his mask sliding away, revealing the rest of his face. 

With optics dark, Vortex snarled at the front liner. "Touch me again Autobot and I'll kill you!" 

Blue optics staring back, Sunstreaker froze, unsure if Vortex meant what he said, especially when the Combaticon’s words were underlined with a roiling fear and hatred which flared unequivocally from Vortex’s energy field. Pinned to the floor, Sunstreaker was at a disadvantage. Had they been in battle, had whatever had grown between them not been nurtured, Sunstreaker would have flipped their positions easily, maiming his opponent at the very least, but Sunstreaker knew that it was the wrong thing to do. Not only would he hurt Vortex in the meantime, the exact opposite of what he was trying to do, he would shatter their tentative line of trust.

The front liner understood that the interrogator needed to maintain control right now, but at the same token, Sunstreaker had to protect himself. Hoping that Vortex was not so far gone that he could not hear him, Sunstreaker tried to reason with him. “Vortex…Tex. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me too.” Sunstreaker’s servos hovered close enough to the heli-former’s frame, that should he need to stop an attack he could react quickly enough, but far enough away that they did not touch. “But those cuts, we need to fix them.”

Vortex had not moved a cable since pinning the Autobot to the floor, his frame remaining rigid, but he snarled in response. “I.Said.No.Touching!” 

“Fine, no touching.” Sunstreaker conceded, his vents becoming slow and deep as his battle protocols engaged. It was the last thing he wanted but he would fight back if he needed to.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the pair as they lay, unmoving, engines running hard and hot. Had this been any other time, servos would have been wildly roaming over plating, both mechs battling to maintain dominance over the over in the merry dance that had become their _relationship_. But right now they were Autobot and Decepticon. Front liner verses Combaticon; enemies.

Sunstreaker, his optics never leaving Vortex’s, saw something quickly change in the interrogator, the flickering of crimson optics giving the Combaticon away along with the gentle tremor of plating. Kliks later, Vortex abruptly levered himself off the front liner’s frame, and pushing himself to his pedes, he backed away, his hips banging into the hard berth in his panic. 

Needing to keep his sights on the golden front liner, Vortex blindly felt along the edge of the berth, following his servos until he was able to move past the obstruction. The Combaticon kept moving until his back touched the wall, his need to put as much distance between him and the Autobot causing him to grind the hub of his rotors against the unforgiving concrete. 

Sunstreaker could see the unfettered fear in Vortex's optics and he wanted nothing more than to wrap strong arms around the larger frame, to offer him comfort, no matter how stilted it was, but somehow he could not see the Decepticon allowing him anywhere near him now. Cursing himself for being so stupid, for forgetting to warn Vortex he was about to touch him, Sunstreaker slowly climbed to his pedes and lifted his servos in surrender. "Tex." he called.

Vortex snarled at the sound of his designation.

"Tex, it's only me, Sunny. I'm not going to hurt you." Slowly Sunstreaker stepped towards and around the med berth, his servos still held up but his reflexes ready should he need to draw his weapon. That thought twisted his spark and he shut the line of thinking down immediately. The bond between he and Sideswipe had been narrowed, allowing Sideswipe his privacy with Onslaught but now the ruby twin filled the bond with his presence, worried by Sunstreaker's feelings which had slipped through.

_~What's going on Sunny?~_ Sideswipe sent calming pulses through to Sunstreaker.

Servos still firmly where Vortex could see them, cobalt optics locked firmly on crimson ones, Sunstreaker drew on his twin's comfort. _~I startled him. Forgot to warn him I was about to touch him from behind and he freaked.~_

_~D’you need help?~_

Sunstreaker was torn between taking Sideswipe up on his offer of help, and in turn Onslaught, and dealing with this himself. He needed to show Vortex he could be trusted, that he could take care of him, more so than ever now. But, had he truly been capable of taking _care_ of the heli-former, this would never have happened. 

_~No.~_ Sunstreaker suddenly replied. _~I've got this~_ He would do this, he would not let Vortex down.

Sideswipe shot further support through the bond. _~If you’re sure, but if you need me.~_ Needing no answer, the ruby twin left Sunstreaker to do what he needed to do, while he went back to taking care of Onslaught. 

With the bond narrowed again, Sunstreaker remained as he was for a moment, watching his lover, his spark twisting with feelings he just was not yet ready to share. At the same time Vortex, torn between flaring his plating, making himself look bigger, and plastering the same plating tightly against his protoform in order to protect himself, kept a watch on the Autobot. He knew in his spark that Sunstreaker would not hurt him, but his processor would not let him believe it.

"I'm sorry Tex." Sunstreaker started. "I didn't mean to startle you.” He was met with silence. “C'mon, I know you're stronger than this." But the front liner didn't really know the Combaticon, not the real Vortex, the used and abused in many different ways Vortex who harboured a death wish. Yes, Sunstreaker knew he was suicidal, knew that he was probably one of the most sadistic Decepticons within Megatron’s army, but he did not truly know how broken and twisted the Combaticon was.

Forcing his frame to stop trembling, Vortex stood a little taller, his processor slowly coming around to his spark’s way of thinking. He could do this, he could trust Sunstreaker; he wanted to trust Sunstreaker. His words were not mocking, like Megatron’s?, but gentle, almost...loving. The Decepticon gave a soft snarl at that last thought and the Autobot assumed it was directed at him.

"Tex, I won't do anything you don't want me to, but I need to finish cleaning those wounds, or would you rather Hook take a look at you?" The front liner kept his position, next to the med berth, servos still raised. It was best if Vortex came to him.

It was the idea of that sadistic fragger getting his servos on his plating again this cycle which propelled Vortex to move, and taking in a deep vent of air the Combaticon walked back to the med berth. Climbing back on it, the Decepticon kept his optics locked firmly on the Autobot, ensuring he made no sudden moves.

Letting the interrogator settle on the edge of the med berth, Sunstreaker made a suggestion. "What if I sit beside you while I look at your back plates? You can always see me then."

Vortex regarded the front liner for a klik before nodding his helm in agreement. 

Unable to supress his vents from releasing relieved gusts of air, Sunstreaker started moving slowly, picking up the cleaning cloth and cleaning fluids again before taking a seat alongside the Decepticon. "Ready?"

"Ready." Vortex rasped wearily, startling Sunstreaker when he spoke. 

The Autobot worked as quickly as he could, only slowing when he felt Vortex tense when he hit a particularly delicate spot, but other than that the Combaticon remained motionless. Taking longer than he wanted to, the front liner eventually finished treating the damage to Vortex's frame. "All done." he softly intoned.

When Vortex remained as he was, Sunstreaker rested a servo on an upper arm, the Combaticon flinching at the contact. But Sunstreaker did not remove his servo, instead the front liner quietly watched as the Decepticon minutely shifted his helm to look at the servo, and seeing that it belonged to Sunstreaker he relaxed. Taking this as a good sign, Sunstreaker gently slid his servo down dented plating until it rested on a clawed servo as it in turn rested on Vortex's thigh. 

When no resistance was given Sunstreaker twinned his fingers with Vortex's, clasping him tightly in reassurance. "I'm here for you Tex." Resisting the urge to nuzzle at Vortex's neck, Sunstreaker remained still, waiting for the Decepticon to make the next move. Suddenly Sunstreaker found himself being yanked forward as Vortex twisted his frame, crashing his lips into Sunstreaker's, sending pain skittering through the both of them as their denta clashed, Vortex through his ferocity, Sunstreaker through his startled state. 

Quickly pulling back, Sunstreaker ensured he kept a tight hold of the Decepticon's servo. "I…I don't think that's a good idea Tex." This was the last thing Sunstreaker had expected, especially after the Decepticon’s threat to kill him only a short time ago.

“Why!?” Vortex snarled, his engine revving in anger. “Too tainted for you now? It’s hardly news I'm damaged goods!” Shame ran hot through the Decepticon but he refused to allow Sunstreaker to know how dirty he felt, so he verbally lashed out, shaming Sunstreaker instead.

Sunstreaker kept his optics guarded, not showing his lover his own pain upon hearing those words. The Autobot still did not _really_ know what had happened to Vortex, he could only speculate from what he could see. Sure the beating the heli-former had taken was there for all to see, but what about what you couldn't see? What about the parts of his frame that were concealed from prying optics?

"You are not damaged goods!" Sunstreaker snarled back before he softened his vocaliser. "And you're better than him. A homicidal maniac yes, but that is what this war made you, what he made you." The irony of that statement was not lost on the Autobot.

Reigning in his anger Vortex studied Sunstreaker's face, using his skills as an interrogator to hunt down the lies that a visage could not easily hide, but there was nothing, nothing but...Shaking his helm, Vortex wondered why that thought kept trying to enter his processor. Yes he had known the Autobot for many, many stellar cycles, but as the foe that he was, still is, but Sunstreaker his lover, well it had been no time at all, not by Cybertronian standards, so to think that way was ludicrous.

Vortex suddenly felt very tired, his recharge protocols fighting for dominance over his systems. "Take me back to my quarters." His weak demand was a far cry from the way he usually demand Sunstreaker to his berth, or his wash rack, and again this pained the front liner. This was not Vortex, his Vortex, and he knew he would have a fight on his servos to pull him back.

"First you should energise and shower, wash away the dirt of this cycle, wash away the stink of him!" Sunstreaker responded whilst trying not to think of the times that he himself had scrubbed parts of his frame clean of colour nanites. Exposed crimson optics flickered before settling a darker hue of red while the heli-former let Sunstreaker lead him off the berth and out of the med bay, and silently, the pair traversed the empty corridors that took them to the Decepticon's quarters. 

Once inside Sunstreaker pulled his lover into the embrace he had patiently waited to give him; Vortex instantly stiffening at the contact, not sure how he felt about it despite claiming a kiss from the front liner only moments before. He was in control then but suddenly an unfamiliar feeling rippled through the Decepticon and for the first time for as long as he could remember, Vortex realised was truly afraid. 

Afraid of what though, the interrogator was not sure. Maybe it was fear of being rejected, or that now he was back in his quarters with Sunstreaker, where they spent most of their time ‘facing, he felt that there would be an _expectation_ of him. But although Sunstreaker’s fingers gently stroked at his plating, they always stopped short of his seams, never venturing into the crevices of his armour, seeking his pleasure spots, and for some reason a part of Vortex was disappointed in this. Feeling Sunstreaker’s servos roam his plating, fingers bringing him both pleasure and pain, was something Vortex had become addicted to, but now the thought also struck this fear into him, suffocating the heli-former.

Before the Decepticon had time to think about this any further, Sunstreaker pulled back, his cobalt optics full of emotions that Vortex did not associate with the front liner, and it suddenly struck the Combaticon that he did not really know the Autobot. Sure he knew how to bring the front liner pleasure, had learned where Sunstreaker enjoyed being touched. He also knew he would do anything to protect his twin, and at times Vortex had to swallow his jealousy over their bond. Sometimes Vortex hated the feelings that Sunstreaker roused from him, they made him feel weak, a mere shadow of himself, a feeling that Vortex unknowingly shared with his commander, but at the same time he felt that nothing could touch him when he lay with Sunstreaker. 

Neither his past nor his present; Shockwave or Megatron. 

But this cycle he felt damaged beyond repair, and he feared that not even Sunstreaker could be the balm his damaged frame and spark needed.

“Tex.” Sunstreaker broke the silence while he reached into sub-space. “Here.” An energon cube was offered to the Decepticon. “Drink this. Judging by the blood-energon on your plating, you’ve lost a lot.”

Vortex was feeling sluggish now that he thought about it, but he was not entirely sure he could keep the fluid down should he try to drink it.

“You’ll need this to help your frame self-repair.” Sunstreaker edged the much need energon into Vortex’s servo. “Please.” He whispered. “For me.” Optics dimming slightly, Vortex silently bared his denta. He knew emotional blackmail when he heard it. Sunstreaker however was unperturbed by the response. “C’mon Tex, I’m sure you don’t want me to force feed you.” 

Crimson optics turned hard. “I’d like to see you try.”

Sunstreaker did not even bother to hide his smirk at his lover’s response. It was what he wanted to hear, the banter they shared. Only his smirk was tinged with sadness as the words Vortex spoke lacked conviction. It was as though the Decepticon had given up on himself. Well that may be the case but there was no way Sunstreaker was going to give up on Vortex, he would prove to the Combaticon that there was something worth healing for. 

Once the cube was in Vortex’s servo the Autobot wrapped his fingers around the servo and cube, and gently raised the cube to the interrogator’s lips. This time he requested, “Will you do it for me?” Vortex narrowed his optics but finally he obliged the front liner, taking a sip. A soft smile crossed Sunstreaker’s lips, causing Vortex to tense. 

He did not deserve this, any of this. Not Sunstreakers care, nor his attention. He was nothing, less than nothing. He was a very small cog in a large machine. Vortex knew he had his job to do and if he did it well, then he was left alone, but if Megatron deemed it necessary to punish him, in whatever manner took the Decepticon leader's fancy that cycle, who was Vortex to question the reasons. But Sunstreaker, the mech who was far too brutal to be an Autobot, yet was loyal to a fault, did not seem to care how stained Vortex was. But this did not stop the heli-former from suddenly fearing that his lover would be repulsed at who he was.

Shame spiked through Vortex again but this time he did not have the energy nor the will power to mask it with anger, so instead he turned his helm away, letting his humiliation get the better of him.

Sunstreaker understood what Vortex was feeling, the shame of allowing himself to be used in such a manner, he had experienced it himself, only he had had Sideswipe to pull him through it, and vice versa, but who did Vortex have? Onslaught? The other Combaticons? Somehow, Sunstreaker mused, he did not see any of them as the comforting type. 

Swindle had his personal activities to keep him occupied, Blast Off deemed himself so above the others that their feelings did not even register on his radar and Brawl, well sometimes Sunstreaker wondered if the tank even knew what cycle it was most of the time. Onslaught was be the only mech who could remotely understand anything that Vortex may be feeling, and clearly he worried for the interrogator's welfare, he had after all been hesitant in trusting Sunstreaker with him in this state. But it could be for another reason entirely that Onslaught had worried about Sunstreaker possibly hurting his mech, such as, without the power of five Bruticus was lame, and without Bruticus, Megatron had no use for the Combaticons, despite their ability to fight as individuals. It was all about power where Megatron was concerned, and the power of the Combaticons was in Bruticus.

Keeping one servo clamped around the Vortex’s servo and the energon, Sunstreaker removed his other one from the back plates where he had continued to caress, and crooked a finger under the Decepticon’s chin, turning his face towards him. “Tex, you have nothing to be ashamed of.” Sunstreaker knew that feeling all too well. “You didn’t ask for this, any of this.”

“What do you know?” Vortex growled. “You don’t know me.” Somehow the Combaticon mustered up the energy to project a sudden burst of anger, once again hiding his shame.

The words hurt Sunstreaker. They hurt him because they were true and the front liner once again felt too ill equipped to deal with this, to be the steady force that Vortex needed to anchor himself to. Sideswipe could do this, but Sunstreaker knew he was just fumbling in the dark. However Sunstreaker refused to be beaten. “Then tell me.” If he could just get Vortex to open up, without forcing him, maybe he could give the Decepticon what he needed.

Optics flared brightly at the gentle demand but Vortex did not answer. Instead he pulled his servo out of Sunstreaker’s and deftly knocked the rest of the energon back. This softness coming from Sunstreaker, it unnerved him. He didn't know how to deal with it, any of it. When Megatron used him, whether it was to just beat out his frustration or for self-gratification, Vortex knew where he stood in the chain of events. Even his relationship with Sunstreaker, in the main he knew where he stood. They had their banter, the interfacing was mainly raw and savage, addictive, and then they went their separate ways. This behaviour from the front liner however was beginning to freak the Combaticon out, yet at the same time he craved it, more than he realised, more than he wished to admit.

Crushing the now empty cube and letting it drop to the floor, Sunstreaker caught his servo again and led him to the wash rack. Neither spoke as Sunstreaker activated the shower, waiting to feel the heat that both of them relished, and as the temperature of the water climbed the Autobot manoeuvred Vortex into position, allowing the clean water to cascade over the damaged frame; the water sluicing away the life-energon that stained grey plating, the dark hue of their life-energon colouring the trailing water pink then swirling in a small vortex on the floor before draining away, only cleaning away the life-energon but doing nothing for the wounds.

Reaching up to a shelf Sunstreaker grabbed at a cloth and cleansing fluid and just like in the med bay, Vortex watched the Autobot’s movements, unsure whether or not to trust him. Sunstreaker’s optics held the gaze of interrogator while he smothered the cloth in cleanser and returning the container to the shelf, Sunstreaker reached for a grey servo, pulling it towards him, Vortex dropping his optics and tracking the movements as his lover began to wash one clawed finger at a time, before turning his hand over and rubbing gently at his palm. 

Sunsteaker worked his way up the interrogator’s arm, gently cleaning each and every plate of living armour, briefly dipping between seams but mindful to not brush against hidden wires and sensors. He was completely aware of how rigid Vortex held his frame as his servo slid over damaged plating, and worry flared through Sunstreaker. What if Vortex was damaged beyond repair? What if there was nothing that could be done to pull the Combaticon out of the place he had retreated to? Maybe Onslaught was right, this was not a good idea, he should not be taking care of the injured Decepticon.

Pausing in his ministrations Sunstreaker vented, his worry crawling through his EM field and brushing against Vortex. At the contact Vortex finally looked up at the front liner’s face. All of Sunstreaker’s worry, all of his concern mixed with a myriad of other emotions, shone from deep optics, and they were all for the heli-former. Vortex quickly dropped his optics, not wanting to see any of this. It was wasted on him, all of this, the care and attention, the gentleness, he was not worthy of any of it. 

Vortex was nothing. If he fell in battle then his Decepticon comrades would step over him, leaving him to his fate; even his Combaticon brethren would only come to his aid through necessity, their survival dependant on one another. Yes, Vortex was nothing, and he was certainly not deserving of this, of the care and concern that Sunstreaker lavished on him. Yet he found he wanted it, needed it, despite this newfound fear that rolled through him in waves.

The Combaticon had no idea what it was he feared. For now he was safe. Megatron never came to their island base and he had already dished out his punishment on Bruticus, Vortex the recipient of that punishment, so he need not fear a repeat performance, for now. So what was it he feared? What was it that made his plating rattle against his protoform as Sunstreaker washed him? What made him want to flinch away from the touches yet at the same time, press against the fingers that could tear him apart if Sunstreaker so desired, but chose to caress him instead?

Feeling the trembling plating under his fingers, Sunstreaker paused, his worry that he had done something wrong echoing once again through his EM field. The fear in Vortex’s optics was nowhere near as fierce as it had been in the med bay, but it was still there and anger welled within Sunstreaker like volcano waiting to erupt. He did not care what Onslaught had said, he _would_ kill Megatron for this, even if he had to do it alone. Except he would not be alone, his twin would be there with him. Sideswipe would not let him down because if Sunstreaker hurt, then Sideswipe did too, and seeing Vortex in this state, damaged and afraid, it cut deep within Sunstreaker’s spark; his shock at feeling that deeply about the Decepticon, hidden in his anger. 

Vortex fought hard to stand his ground, to not flinch under the fingers which only cycles ago, had danced over his frame, covered in paint as Sunstreaker had tried to paint him sprawled on the berth, sated and relaxed. It had turned out that the interrogator had not quite finished with the front liner, his charge not quite spent as he decided to become Sunstreaker’s canvas instead; a living canvas. 

Shuttering his optics and holding onto that memory, Vortex imagined that was what they had been doing, before they retired to the wash rack so that Sunstreaker could tantalisingly wash the paint from Vortex’s frame; and that is what Sunstreaker was doing now, in Vortex’s processor, washing off the paint. Shuttering his optics, Vortex let the water and feelings wash over him, Sunstreaker’s fingers brushing lightly at the edge of his transformation seams as he cleaned dried energon from each plate.

Slowly, the images of Megatron touching him, both inside and out faded, although not completely diminishing; almost as though the memories sat in the corner of his peripheral vision. Gradually, Vortex’s systems began to heat, small sparks of pleasure crackling across his plating, the accidental brushing of Sunstreaker’s fingers along the edges of his plates, gentle and arousing. Between Sunstreaker’s energy stroking against his own, calming him, and the front liner’s languid ministrations over his frame, cleaning and soothing, Vortex fell into a trancelike state, a minute smile curling in the corner of his mouth.

Vortex did not know gentleness, had never been gentle himself and preferred the rougher side of everything he did, his tolerance threshold programmed at a higher level than most Cybertronians, but surprising himself he found he was not adverse to it. He relished in the anticipation of the gentle traces of fingertips, the way his systems would flare with pleasure before Sunstreaker’s touches had moved to the next plate, and just as the pleasure dissolved into a ghost of a tingle, leaving him wanting more, his sensor net would detect the contact again, his pleasure blooming once more.

Sunstreaker could not help but notice Vortex’s growing arousal, but it did not surprise him as much as it may have surprised or shocked another. The front liner understood, more than most knew, what it was like to be hurt in a way others could not comprehend, and have these others assume that you were dead on the inside, that you were no longer capable of feeling anything. But Sunstreaker also knew that acting on those feelings so soon after something like this, although the Autobot was still second guessing what had truly happened, and you could drown in your own emotions.

Yet, Sunstreaker let Vortex’s energy play with his own, fanning his own desire that was ever present when the interrogator was around. The front liner did however keep himself in check, focusing all his attention on the task he had set himself, to rid Vortex’s frame of his own life-energon. “Turn.” Sunstreaker’s tone was gruff as he swallowed down his growing want. This was not about him.

Crimson light flared brightly as Vortex unshuttered his optics. “Kiss me.” With a mix of apprehension and need, Vortex gently demanded, his EM dancing with Sunstreaker’s as he tried to gain dominance over the mech. 

Pursing his lips, Sunstreaker remained mute, his optics flickering with uncertainty before pressing a small kiss on the Combaticon’s lips. “Now turn around for me.” He murmured, pulling away.

“Kiss me!” This time the same words were more demanding, servos grasping at whichever part of Sunstreaker Vortex could catch hold of first.

“Don’t do this Tex. I don’t know if I can hold out.” Sunstreaker knew he should step away from the swirling energy field that enticed and teased him; the willingness and want in Vortex’s energy such a contrast to the tautness of the grey plating, the tremor still evident. A soft snarl was all the front liner received in reply. “Let me finish cleaning you first and then afterwards, if you feel you still want to…” A false promise was given.

Optics, suddenly dull again, watched the Autobot for a klik before Vortex finally complied, his energy field remaining tightly twinned with Sunstreaker’s as gentle touches resumed. Pleasure flourished through the heli-former again, a moan slipping unconstrained from his vocaliser and Vortex pushed his back against Sunstreaker’s frame. He needed more, more than fleeting touches, more than a caress of energy. He needed to feel Sunstreaker, over his plating, fingers dipping between seams, inside him. He wanted Sunstreaker to wipe away the hurt, to erase the filth of Megatron from him.

Sunstreaker knew he should not reciprocate, that Vortex was not in the right frame of processor, but the he had two weaknesses in life; the first was a lifelong weakness, Sideswipe, and the second was more recent development, the mech pressed against his frame, wanting him, needing him.

With no further thought Sunstreaker gently pushed Vortex’s chest against the wall of the wash rack, hot water trailing over them while his mouth brushed against exposed cables that fed through the Decepticon’s neck. His servos ran up plating that led from the boxy hips, finger tips grazing the edges of transformation seams before he continued running them over Vortex’s shoulders and along arms as the heli-former pressed his own servos flat against the wall.

Vortex gave a lowly groan, encouraging Sunstreaker to continue, despite his earlier fear creeping back through his spark. Pushing the feeling away, Vortex concentrated on Sunstreaker’s frame as it pressed against his back; golden chest plates against his rotor hub, servos trailing along his arms and wet heat from Sunstreaker’s mouth, pressed into his neck.

Feeling the gentle tremor that had started again, rattling heated plates, Sunstreaker restrained himself. Vortex was clearly still fearful, despite how much he had said he wanted this and in an attempt to relax his lover, Sunstreaker began to kiss up Vortex’s neck and across the cheek that was exposed to him. At the same time, his servos continued their journey along the Combaticon’s arms until his servos met the smaller grey ones, his larger fingers twinning with clawed ones while he gently pushed his pelvis into Vortex’s aft, rotors splaying and allowing him access

On any other given cyclenSunstreaker would already be pounding Vortex into the wall, encouraged by the heli-formers dirty words, but not this cycle. This time Sunstreaker had to stop himself from flinching as he thought of Megatron inflicting the marks that decorated the frame his own servos and mouth had explored. Knocking the thought away, the front liner let his energy caress his lover, his own charge building, but despite the way the Decepticon was behaving, writhing against him, surely Vortex could not want this, he thought. Surely this could only remind the Decepticon of what Sunstreaker assumed Megatron had done to him merely joors ago. 

The shifting away of Sunstreaker’s golden frame was only marginal, but Vortex still felt the change in pressure and growled deeply from his chest. “I didn’t tell you to stop.” He rasped, his vents heavy.

Sunstreaker tightened his grip on Vortex’s servos but made no attempt to move. “Tex.” He vented into the audial near his mouth. “You don’t want this.”

An angry flare of energy crashed into Sunstreaker, forcing him to hold his ground. “Who are _you_ to tell me what I want!?” Vortex’s words were coated with a bitterness that rose like acrid energon in his intakes, everything that he had tried to shut out, the images, the feelings, vying for his attention again.

Meanwhile hurt and disappointment spiked through Sunstreaker. He was not sure why he felt this way, but…well he thought he had meant more to the interrogator. “Tex…”

Vortex cut him off. “I want you to frag me!” He demanded.

At the heated words, lust uncontrollably surged through Sunstreaker and he could not help but grind himself against his lover again, a little more forcibly than the first time, eliciting a growl from the mech. As the vibrations of that growl vibrated through Sunstreaker’s frame the Autobot came back to reality. The front liner did not want to do this. It did not matter that Vortex _demanded_ he frag him, he was taking advantage and what made this better than Megatron...with the incomplete thought slamming through his processor Sunstreaker abruptly pulled away from Vortex, almost as though he had been struck with an energon rod. 

Rejection flared through Vortex as water replaced Sunstreaker’s frame at his back and with optics bright and angry, he whirled around to face the Autobot, repeating his words from in the med bay, after Sunstreaker had pulled away from his earlier kiss. “Still too tainted for you?” He hissed.

Sadness welled through Sunstreaker, sadness tinged with his own anger, both of which he crushed for Vortex’s sake. Instead, with Vortex now facing him, Sunstreaker closed the space between them and cupped the Combaticons unmasked face in his servos. “Never.” He husked, his optics boring into the crimson ones now suddenly filled with fear again, instead of the anger they displayed mere kliks ago, and Sunstreaker wondered if it was the fear of rejection that burned so fiercely within the Combaticon.

“Then remind me it doesn’t need to hurt.” The words where much quieter now, as if all fight had left the Combaticon, and they were accompanied with a tremble in vocals which matched the shuddering of his frame. “Make me forget what he did.” Sunstreaker was a little taken aback by the request. It was one thing for Vortex to demand the Autobot frag him, but for the interrogator to ask him this, to plead with him, and suddenly Sunstreaker was not sure if he could turn him down.

Together they were rough, they both knew how to push each other’s buttons but this sudden neediness from his lover both unnerved and aroused Sunstreaker. Still restraining himself, Sunstreaker watched the Decepticon for a beat longer before pressing his mouth onto Vortex’s mouth, and keeping the kiss as chaste as he was capable of, Sunstreaker waited for Vortex to take control.

When the kiss remained soft, Vortex became frustrated. His systems had been running hot and he needed release. With water still tumbling over their frames Vortex curled fingers around the edges of Sunstreaker’s chest plates, the Combaticon pulling the front liner against his frame. Breaking their kiss, but not the contact between their lips, Vortex whispered. “Please.”

That was it, there was no way Sunstreaker could not comply, could not act on his arousal or deny Vortex his request, and this time he clamped his mouth down firmly, his servos gripping the sides of Vortex’s face tightly as his glossa delved between lips to the welcoming heat beyond. With his engine revving hard, his fans gently whirled into life as his core temperature increased and sliding his servos from Vortex’s face, Sunstreaker gripped at square shoulders, instinctively pushing Vortex against the wall. 

Sunstreaker could still feel the fear in the interrogator’s trembling plating, confusion in his energy field, and the front liner was completely aware of how stilted Vortex’s movements were as clawed fingers released his chest plates to scrape over his frame, and once again he came to his senses. Forcing himself to stop Sunstreaker rested his fore-helm against Vortex’s chin while he waited for his panting vents to calm down. “Tex, not like this.”

Hurt, anger and disappointment swirled through the interrogator’s energy field, but before Vortex could verbally lash out again, Sunstreaker planted a quick kiss on his lips before pulling away. “I want you.” He husked. “Don’t ever doubt that, but this, now, it’s not what you really want, and it’s not right.” Crimson optics flashed but again, Sunstreaker would not let Vortex respond as he moved his servos from shoulders to his face again. “It isn’t Tex. It won’t fix what happened, it won’t take it away. Primus, I know.” Sunstreaker hesitated, his processor fighting the memories that were being stirred. “I know.” Sunstreaker quietly repeated.

“What about what I want?” The Decepticon suddenly felt out of control again. It was different, the situation here with Sunstreaker, entirely different to what had happened earlier, but still, he had no control over the outcome and without warning, everything he had been holding down, bubbled and erupted, just as Onslaught had warned Sunstreaker that it would; that Vortex’s comatose behaviour was the calm before the storm.

Everything happened quickly, too quickly, and suddenly the Autobot was looking up at dark red optics while he lay pinned to the ground yet again. Only this time there was a dark look in Vortex’s optics, a promise that he would get what he wanted. Given the situation they had been in merely kliks ago, the attack was the last thing the front liner had expected and once again he was not prepared, letting the Combaticon get the better of him. Instinct was to retaliate as the Vortex who now leaned over him, claws tearing into his shoulder plating as he secured his victim to the ground, was not the Vortex he had developed feelings for, nor was he the frightened mech from the med bay, but a volatile Vortex, one who had caught his enemy and now he would reap his reward.

Sunstreaker struggled but still he did not attack, because to retaliate would not be a good move on his part. He could both seriously injure the Decepticon as well as bring Onslaught’s wrath on him, but with the way Vortex ground himself against Sunstreaker’s frame, panic began to rise in the front liner. He knew he would have to get the heli-former on his back, but after that, he had no clue as to what he could do. Ordinarily he would leave his opponent maimed at the very least, but despite what was happening, this was Vortex, _his_ Vortex! 

With his servos ripping Vortex’s claws from his shoulders, Sunstreaker gave his powerful frame a sharp buck, dislodging the Combaticon from his frame, allowing him to flip their positions. Restraining the grey mech below him Sunstreaker did the only thing he could think of, and blew his spark bond with Sideswipe wide open.

Given the circumstances, neither had completely blocked the other out whilst they both cared for their lovers, allowing Sideswipe’s blocks to easily fall away, panic instantly bleeding through the bond before Sunstreaker’s need for help slipped through. _~Sunny?~_

_~Swipe, he’s lost it. If I fight back…Just get to his quarters.~_

Sideswipe began uncurling himself from Onslaught’s frame, reluctantly pulling himself away from the commander’s heat. “I think that storm just blew up.”

Onslaught did not need telling twice and Sideswipe had barely let go of the larger mech’s now taut frame before Onslaught was racing off the berth, interface covers snapping shut. With large strides, the gestalt leader was out of his quarters and half way through the first corridor when Sideswipe exited the commander’s quarters. “I knew it was a bad idea.” The gestalt leader’s tone had become formal, a small hint of anger projecting with his words. “I should have gone with my instincts. Vortex is too unpredictable to be left in another maniac’s servos.” Onslaught threw the barbed comment over his shoulder.

The insult aimed at his twin, hurt Sideswipe as he caught up with the Combaticon. Sunstreaker was not a maniac and he thought Onslaught had come to understand both he and his twin, but right now, he did not imagine that Onslaught would care if he had hurt him or not. “Slaught.” He called. “Wait, you need to calm down.”

_“Calm!”_ Anger flared hard from Onslaught, his energy field slamming into the front liner’s as he swung around to face the Autobot. “This is _your_ fault Sideswipe, insisting I rest instead of taking care of my soldier. If your brother has laid a finger on Vortex I will not be responsible for my actions.”

Shocked at the threat, Sideswipe’s plating flared wide along with his own angered energy field, his face becoming hard. “Don’t you threaten Sunstreaker!” But when Sideswipe saw weariness flicker through the Decepticon’s unmasked face, rather than the rage he expected in return, he instantly calmed down. “Slaught…” He tried again, and while flattening his armour, Sideswipe relaxed his energy and features, braving a few steps towards his lover until he stood within the Combaticon’s personal space. “Let’s find out what’s happened before we lay blame.” 

Conceding that Sideswipe was right, Onslaught allowed the younger mech’s energy field to swirl around him for a moment, his own regret at their time together being cut short, surfacing, before turning on his toe plate and striding away again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Vortex's attack on Sunstreaker, Onslaught needs to calm his interrogator down. Meanwhile Sideswipe shares something with Sunstreaker which upsets him. The twins then try to comfort their respective lovers, but things get a little _intense_ between Sideswipe and Onslaught which later leads to a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kind of ran away with itself, so what was supposed to be a 2 chapter fic is now 3 chapters. Also, Sideswipe x Sunstreaker and Sideswipe x Onslaught took over this chapter a little.
> 
> Tag added for spark merging/sex (twins) and rough sex (not twins).
> 
>  **Warning** for over-rough interfacing this chapter.

Arriving at Vortex’s quarters the commander overrode the key code, letting both himself and Sideswipe into the seemingly empty room, but on entering neither mech could miss the volatile energy fields pouring from the wash rack. Nor could they miss the sounds of anger and madness as Vortex screamed uncontrolled words of abuse, while a deeper, firmer voice tried to cut through the threats. Glancing at one another, apprehension apparent in both, they stepped into the small space, anger rushing through Onslaught like rapids through a canyon when he found his soldier pinned under the weight of the former gladiator.

Shock rippled through Sideswipe, coupled with disbelief. “What the frag!?” 

In the confined space of the wash rack, Sideswipe failed to get between his twin and Onslaught, and could only watch as the large mech grabbed Sunstreaker by his scruff bar, tearing him from Vortex’s frame. Finally Sunstreaker’s battle protocols began to engage, but before his optics became cold and hard, his face impassive as he succumbed to his fighting instinct, and before he could inflict any damage on the Decepticon currently holding him aloft, Onslaught threw Sunstreaker against the wall, his plating rattling with a clang as he hit the solid surface.

Quickly back on his pedes, Sunstreaker delved into sub-space to retrieve his blaster. It had always been a risk striking up a relationship with the enemy, a risk which thrilled all four mechs involved, but Sunstreaker would not sit back and allow their lives to be endangered, and right now Onslaught was a threat to them. Sunstreaker however, never managed to retrieve his blaster, Sideswipe made sure of that. 

_~You slagging idiot.~_ He slammed through the bond as he shoved his twin back against the wall, off balancing Sunstreaker so that he would abandon the retrieval of his weapon. _~What the frag are you doing?~_

“ _He’s_ the slagging idiot.” Sunstreaker seethed outwardly towards the Combaticon commander. “I’m trying to help! Tex is the one who lost it.” He spat. “He…” How could Sunstreaker tell them that Vortex had attacked him because refused to ‘face with the Decepticon? “Well he just lost it. I was trying to control him…calm him” Sunstreaker’s vents shuttered open and shut as he huffed his anger. He doubted he was helping the situation. 

Onslaught, an audial on the conversation between the Autobots, hauled Vortex up off the floor, the interrogator snarling and lashing out at his leader, so far in the depths of his processor that he was oblivious to Onslaught’s actual presence. The smaller mech twisted and thrashed in the larger mech’s hold as powerful arms wrapped around him in an attempt to still him, Onslaught standing firm despite Vortex’s desperate attempts to break free. 

“I think you two should go.”

Sunstreaker, still held against the wall by his twin, shot a dark look at Onslaught. “No!” He spat. “You can’t make me leave him.”

Onslaught finally looked over at the twins. The Combaticon was tired and frustrated, his patience wearing thin. “I’ll throw you out of here in parts if I have to, Autobot?” 

It was Sideswipe who froze at the words, and for a moment he was reminded that they were all still enemies. Catching the look on Sideswipe’s face before the front liner had the chance to mask it, Onslaught instantly regretted his words. But Vortex was distressed and needed calming down before it got to the point when the commander would have to put him into stasis, for his safety as well as everyone else’s.

Oblivious to the exchange of looks between his twin and Onslaught, Sunstreaker glared at the Combaticon leader. If the Decepticon wanted a fight then the golden Autobot was more than ready, his systems already worked up following the attack by Vortex, and fed by his insurmountable anger over what his lover had been through. Onslaught however, did not oblige the front liner by giving him his fight, instead he tightened his hold on Vortex and with weariness, he turned to Sideswipe. 

“Please Sideswipe, just give us some time.” 

Understanding, Sideswipe quickly encouraged Sunstreaker to leave the wash rack. “I’ll take you to the med bay, check out these cuts.” Sunstreaker stood firm for a moment, he really did not want to leave Vortex, not like this, angry at him. _~Sunny!~_ Sideswipe warned through the bond. _~Let Onslaught do whatever he needs to do, let him deal with this.~_

With an angry growl, Sunstreaker shook off Sideswipe’s hold and brushed past his ruby twin, his wet frame dripping on the floor as he stormed through Vortex’s quarters and headed back to the so called med bay.

***

Onslaught waited until he was sure the twins had left Vortex’s quarters. He had managed to keep a hold on the angry, writhing interrogator, but now it was just the two of them he released the smaller mech from his hold. Knowing exactly what Vortex would do next, the commander braced himself as the heli-former spun on his pedes, rotors fanning out and filling the confined space of the wash rack, and as Vortex rushed at him, Onslaught raised his arm, punching him squarely in the side of his helm.

The hit sent Vortex stumbling backwards, the wall stopping his fall. “Fragger!” He screamed as the water from the shower overhead rained down on him, hampering his attempt to re-launch himself at his commander. His thoughts were so messed up, his processor jumping from one memory file to another, but before Vortex could catch hold of each file, another was in its place.

The erratic dance in his processor was nothing unusual, only ordinarily he could handle it and keep some sort of control over the myriad of maniacal thoughts. It was what gave him his edge as the most deadly interrogator amongst his Decepticon brethren.

But there were times when his hold slipped, like now, and the madness would take a hold of him instead, reminding him how weak and pathetic he was, on the inside. Proving that no amount of murderous tendency, malicious intent or down right sadism could erase the fact that he was nothing more than a pathetic, miserable slave; Megatron’s whore in every way.

Dilating his hidden optics, Onslaught reached forward to shut the water off, ignoring how his interrogator scratched at his frame, a flood of vile and insulting words pouring from his vocaliser. It was a familiar dance between the two. First there would be the silence, just as Sunstreaker had seen in the med bay, then the anger, when the heli-former would lash out at everyone and everything, before finally retreating back into that part of his processor that only Onslaught was able to pull him out of. It was a long and tedious affair, one that never got any easier.

Being ignored only wound Vortex up further, but he needed to burn through his anger before he had a chance of calming down. “Don’t walk away from me you waste of space fragger!” He screamed again as his commander exited the wash rack, Onslaught’s lack of response pulling a frustrated wordless scream from his vocaliser. Silence briefly fell before Vortex started up again. “I should rip your vitals out.” He ranted as he stormed into his quarters. “And feed you your own energon.” Red angry optics glared at the commander stood in his room as the pitch in his vocals became higher. “You call yourself a fragging commander! You can’t even take care of your own team. You’re weak! Pathetic!”

Despite the same old words rolling off Vortex’s glossa, Onslaught couldn’t help flinching at each insult; because it was all true. 

As commander of their gestalt, their failure was his responsibility, and it was he who should have taken the beating, not Vortex. The larger mech should have been the one who was violated, whilst his heli-former stood outside the room listening to their leader relieve his frustration, not the other way around. Instead he had bowed his head in the submission he had no control over, and he let Megatron take his wrath out on his subordinate. Onslaught’s shame turned to anger. “Maybe if you didn’t antagonise him…”

 _“I hate you!”_ Vortex screamed, almost fritzing his vocaliser, cutting Onslaught off before throwing himself at the larger mech, sending them both sprawling on his berth.

“It is not me you hate Vortex.” Large arms banded around the heli-former, holding his shaking frame steady, and hampering any effort to lash out.

Snarling, the heli-former ground out, “Frag you!”

“Vortex, it is okay, you are safe.” The words, calmer sounding calmer that he felt, he had repeated countless times over the years.

Ignoring his commander, Vortex moved his exposed face closer to Onslaught’s masked one, catching his reflection in the gold visor. “Pathetic.” He hissed weakly; not really sure who it was he was calling pathetic this time.

Suddenly Onslaught felt Vortex’s energy field weaken, become less erratic, and the smaller mech sagged against his frame. Ordinarily it took much longer than this for the interrogator to climb down from his hysterical state, but for some reason the interrogator gave up his fight much sooner as an air of defeat filled the space around them.

“He rejected me.” The rasped words almost startled the commander.

Confused, Onslaught waited a moment to see if Vortex would add anything further to that statement, but when he didn’t the gestalt leader ventured, “who?”

Vortex rested his helm on the broad chest of his commander, claw tips of one of his servos absentmindedly scratching at Onslaught’s arm. “I wanted him to take it all away but…” Whatever else he was going to say, tapered into nothing; to finish the sentence would make him as weak as he felt.

“Sunstreaker.” Onslaught offered, certain this was whom Vortex was talking about, but Vortex remained silent. His retreat into his dark and messed up processor already well under way. Releasing a vent of air, Onslaught tried not to think about how that every time this happened, every time the interrogator retreated into his own little word, a little more of his insanity would take over; and Primus have mercy on the next Cybertronian to end up in the interrogation room.

With his soldier quiet, Onslaught’s thoughts momentarily turned to the Autobot twins on his base, and he wondered what the Pit he had been thinking of, ever inviting them here. It was not right that they were a familiar sight around the place, and it had only been a matter of time before they witnessed something they should not be privy to. But despite his earlier protestation over Sunstreaker taking care of his interrogator, and his thoughts now, the commander would be lying if he denied that he was relieved to see the pair when he arrived with Vortex in his arms several hours ago, relieved that maybe for once he would not have to deal with this alone.

With Vortex laying limply over his frame, Onslaught manoeuvred himself until the heli-former lay on the berth, and for a while the pair lay there, their very different systems filling the silence; Onslaught watching his soldier, Vortex not all there.

Thoughts and images continued to swirl around the interrogator’s processor, only now they were less erratic than before, but Vortex didn’t even bother to chase them down; his processor no longer able to make sense of any of them anymore.

~|~

“Calm down for frag sake Sunny.” Sideswipe grumbled as he walked into the med bay after his brother. “Onslaught has Tex’s best interests at spark. He knows Tex better than…” Sunstreaker scowled at the remark that he knew was coming. “Well, he does!” Sideswipe snapped. There was no point in denying that fact. “Like it or not, right now he’s the best one to care for him.”

Looming towards Sideswipe, Sunstreaker snarled. “I’ve taken care of you enough times haven’t I? Why should Tex be any different?” Regardless of his earlier reservations about whether or not he was the right mech to care for Vortex, Sunstreaker did not like hearing that someone else was better suited for the job than he was.

“But you know me like you know yourself.” Sideswipe’s calming energy flared over Sunstreaker, and not fighting it the golden twin let the energy envelope him while he climbed onto the med berth. Fingers were instantly on his gold frame, smoothing over the small tears in his plating and Sideswipe could see that nanites were already at work. 

“It’s killing me Swipe, seeing him like that, not able to help him.”

“I know.” Sideswipe softly intoned. “I know Sunny.

“I know what happened, but I don’t really know at all. I’m just guessing.” Frustration and uncertainty flickered through the front liner. He wished Vortex trusted him enough to tell him, that he wanted to tell him.

Sideswipe stopped exploring Sunstreaker’s small injuries. “Do you really want to know?” He asked. The ruby twin knew that if it was Sunstreaker, or even Onslaught were in the position Vortex was in, he would be torn between wanting to know and being oblivious.

Sunstreaker shifted uneasily, pushing his shoulder into Sideswipe’s fingers, encouraging his touches. “Maybe I could help him if I knew.” Came the small reply. Suddenly Sunstreaker felt useless and he began to wonder why he had looked for something outside of his relationship with Sideswipe. But he had not been looking, it had just happened, exploded from nothing, and now he was filled with feelings that made sense when he felt them about Sideswipe, but when it was Vortex eliciting these feelings, Sunstreaker felt as if a weight was crushing down on him.

In spite of his uncertainty, or his denial of his feelings, Sunstreaker had an overwhelming need to prove himself to his lover. To prove that he was not just after the Combaticon’s frame, but that he cared for him too, even if he would not admit it.

“What happened Sunny?”

There was a momentary pause before Sunstreaker replied. “He tried to make me…” Sunstreaker looked away from his twin. “Tried to make me ‘face with him.”

Distress flickered across Sideswipe’s face and through their bond. “He tried to force himself on you?”

“No.” Sunstreaker returned his gaze onto Sideswipe. “He begged me to frag him, and I nearly did.” Self-loathing consumed the golden twin. “But I didn’t. I couldn’t go through with it, despite his plea for me to _take what Megatron had done away_.” Sideswipe felt the hurt and anger that had been bubbling within his twin, spike through both their bond and Sunstreaker’s energy. Clasping at his twins servos, Sideswipe leant in, resting their fore-helms together. “That’s why he attacked me.” Sunstreaker continued. “Because I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t take advantage, no matter how much I wanted him.”

“You did the right thing.” Twin energy fields mingled with one another, one slightly erratic and the other calm.

Shifting slightly, Sunstreaker asked, “then why do I feel as though I’ve let him down? He hasn’t even told me what happened, clearly doesn’t trust me.” Disappointment welled in the front liner. Trust was such a tentative thing in his life that it meant everything to Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe wrestled with himself for a moment. He had promised Onslaught that he would keep what his lover had shared with him to himself; the memories after all were Onslaught’s. But Sunstreaker needed to know. Okay, so he _knew_ what had gone on, you only had to look at Vortex’s frame to see that, but if Sunstreaker didn’t fully understand the severity of what had happened, how could he even begin to take care of Vortex.

Sunstreaker knew Sideswipe was keeping something from him. Not only did his energy give him away, but his conflict was palatable, his guilt at considering keeping something from his twin, prevalent through the bond. “Swipe?”

Drawing a deep draught of air, Sideswipe pulled away, at the same time retracting a small panel concealed in his wrist. “Open up.”

Frowning, Sunstreaker replied, “Swipe, I don’t think now’s the time…”

“Pit Sunny, just open up before I change my processor.”

Glaring at his twin, Sunstreaker did as Sideswipe told him, opening a small cover in his own wrist. Sideswipe was already extracting the hard line cable hidden there. “Onslaught isn’t to know I’ve shown you this.” Sunstreaker nodded, his frown disappearing when he realised Sideswipe was not playing one of their interface games. Plugging himself into Sunstreaker, Sideswipe dropped his firewalls and waiting for his twin to reciprocate, he pulled up the required file.

Sideswipe’s HUD finally notified him that connection had been permitted and the sudden flow of information from him to Sunstreaker engulfed Sunstreaker in a heady haze for a moment; although nowhere near as powerful a backlash it would be if they had a two way connection. With the connection now fully established Sideswipe transferred the data, allowing the file to play in his own processor as the scene unfolded in his twin’s.

Confusion slipped between their bond, Sunstreaker not sure what it was he was experiencing, then suddenly he realised he could hear Megatron’s voice, in the distance, and anger swelled through him; a need to hurt the Decepticon leader rearing from deep within his spark.

Resting their fore-helms together again, Sideswipe gently vocalised, “You’re looking through Onslaught’s optics.” Sideswipe was feeling a little emotional. Although only images and sounds came through the hard line he had already shared this with Onslaught, and although the large commander had not broken down to the front liner, Sideswipe had felt anger and humiliation in Onslaught’s energy field, along with a failure on his part to protect his team.

The images in Sunstreaker’s processor remained a little hazy, distant, as though he was struggling to recall them. Had they been Sideswipe’s memory files they would have been crystal clear, however they were no less startling to the front liner. Sunstreaker’s frame suddenly stiffened as he saw Onslaught’s servo, as if it were his own, trying to reach out to Vortex, but nowhere near quickly enough before a larger servo, Megatron’s, hauled the interrogator towards his large frame. Rage brewed like a storm as Sunstreaker saw Megatron’s servos on Vortex, and his frame began to twitch as he fought with his battle protocols; his processor not separating reality from the images being fed to him.

Pulling his energy field tightly around them both, Sideswipe cocooned his twin in calmness as the scenes continued to fill Sunstreaker’s helm.

The golden twin listened, through Onslaught’s audials, to the words of anger and frustration which poured from Megatron before he threw Vortex across the room and against the wall, then frustration spiked when he heard the interrogator give a mad chuckle, even though Sunstreaker knew he would have done the exact same thing; taunting his enemy, adding to the thrill of the fight. But Sunstreaker had seen with his own optics the results of Megatron’s wrath, so he willed Vortex to stop, to be quiet, despite the fact that what he now watched had already been.

Vortex quickly climbed to his pedes, and Sideswipe felt brief amusement trickle through from his twin as Sunstreaker imagined the smirk that was behind the heli-former’s facemask as Vortex would undoubtedly gibe the warlord further. But that amusement was immediately followed by please stay down Tex. If only Vortex had remained submissive, the beating will still have been harsh but maybe it would have ended there.

Golden plating flinched when a punch which cracked Vortex’s visor, was powerful enough to knock the Combaticon off his pedes again, the sound of Megatron’s fist making contact with the side of Vortex’s helm resonating through the link. Hearing the _Unff_ as air was knocked out of Vortex’s vents, sent Sunstreaker immediately recoiling. 

Then the view changed when Onslaught turned his helm, his optics leaving his soldier’s panting frame on the ground and turning to the Decepticon leader, and Sunstreaker wondered why he had just stood there, why the Combaticon commander did not do, or say anything.

“Loyalty programming.”

“Huh?” Sunstreaker retorted, not catching what Sideswipe had said as his anger broiled inside him.

“The reason why he…Onslaught, only watched, it’s in his programming. He can’t fight Megatron, no matter how much he would like to rip his spark out.” Sideswipe explained, defending his lover.

“And he told you this, told his enemy?” Surprise flared through the golden twin. Surprise at both the fact that Sideswipe knew something so personal about his Decepticon lover, and that Onslaught had admitted to Sideswipe that he would sooner rip out Megatron’s spark than follow him. “And what secrets have you told him?” Sarcasm hid a sudden stab of jealousy.

Sideswipe thought that maybe sharing that last nugget of information with his twin was probably not the right thing to do right now, but he preferred to not have any secrets between them. “It’s not our usual topic of conversation, but I also wondered why he’d just stood there, watching. He kinda just opened up a little.” A ruby shoulder shrugged, implying it was nothing special.

Gold plating rippled over Sunstreaker’s frame as various emotions rippled through him.. “And that’s why talking in the berth is not a good idea, never know what secrets you might reveal when you overload.”

“Usually I’m too busy screaming to talk.” Sideswipe replied dryly. Sunstreaker’s attention however, was already focused back on the play going on in his helm.

Vortex was back on his pedes again, but this time he was in Megatron’s grip, more than likely yanked off the ground by the Decepticon leader, large fingers wrapped around the interrogator’s throat. _“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now, all of you!”_

Smaller servo’s gripped at the massive grey arm. _“I’d rather give you plenty of reasons to kill me.”_ the heli-former rasped, his pedes now dangling from the floor. Rage steamed through Sunstreaker at Vortex’s words.

“Of all the pit spawned stupid things to say you slagger.” He seethed into the med bay. “Does he have a death wish!?”

Sideswipe pulled back slightly, optic ridge raised. “Because you’ve never said anything like that.”

Sunstreaker grumbled something in response before he winced, the sound of another crack echoing through link, the sound alone as sharp as he imagined the contact of large servo against a helm would be. The grey helm rolled under the impact and Vortex lost his grip on Megatron’s arm, leaving him hanging in the grip of the larger servo. The optics Sunstreaker watched through never left Vortex, and despite what Sideswipe had told Sunstreaker, about the loyalty programming hindering any attempt Onslaught could make to intercept the attack on his subordinate, anger welled hotly within Sunstreaker. How _could_ he just stand by and watch the mismatched fight, that was not a fight at all, but an attack. How could the leader of a gestalt watch, as a mech he was bonded to, was thrown about like a used rag.

As if on cue, Vortex was flung across the room again like the proverbial rag, the small space not allowing reduction in the velocity of the impact against the wall, one of Vortex’s shoulders taking the initial impact and causing the interrogator to cry out in pain. This time Megatron turned away, throwing words over his shoulder. _“Pick him up.”_ He commanded. There didn’t seem to be any movement that Sunstreaker could see, all he saw was the broad back of the mammoth Decepticon as Onslaught looked at his leader. 

Turning back around to face his gestalt, Megatron revealed an energon whip in his servo. _“I believe I gave an order!”_

It was Onslaught who moved to obey the command, Sunstreaker watching as his gaze shifted back to the downed interrogator. The Autobot heard the commander, via comms, order the rest of his team to stand down, taking on the responsibility himself as servos reached out in front of Sunstreaker, servos that did not belong to the front liner, to grip hold of the grey Combaticon, roughly pulling him to his pedes. _//Keep your mouth shut!//_ Onslaught demanded of his subordinate. 

Whether it was in response to the directive, or simply because he was unable to respond, Vortex remained silent, his bright visor pinned on his commander. _//I mean it Tex, don’t wind him up any more than he already is.//_

Before anything else could be said, the sound of the energon whip sliced through the air, the electrically charged fall of the implement buzzing with energy as it sliced into grey plating. Vortex hissed with pain, his frame visibly tensing in his commander’s servos. But his shielded optics never left his Onslaught’s visor, and it was as though he was looking straight at Sunstreaker.

Hissing with anger and anguish, Sunstreaker’s frame tensed in response in Sideswipe’s hold and his ruby twin tightened his embrace on him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t see anymore.” Sideswipe suggested. He knew that what was still to come would cut Sunstreaker to the spark. He may not always admit to much when it came to the way he felt, but his feelings ran deeply, and his hurt deeper. 

Sunstreaker hesitated before he shook his helm. He felt like a sadist, the monster others assumed he was, in wanting to see what came next, but it was need which compelled him to bear witness to the brutality the Decepticon leader inflicted on his lover.

Another stroke of the energon whip landed on the interrogator’s plating, but this time not a sound left the heli-former. Images of Megatron’s punishment tumbled through the link, the whip raining down on his lover’s frame, scoring deep welts in his protective armour, exposing his protoform. Throughout, Onslaught kept a hold of his soldier, consistently talking to him through their comm. link, telling the smaller mech that it would be over soon. 

Blinded to the fact that there truly was nothing Onslaught could do to stop this, and oblivious to the agony that would be unleashed on the commander’s processor should he attempt to fight against Megatron, anger surged through Sunstreaker, anger and hatred. Loyalty programming or not, the commander should have protected his soldier.

With Sunstreaker’s anger at Onslaught radiating out towards his twin, Sideswipe further tightened his hold on his golden counterpart. 

“You don’t understand.” Sideswipe offered weakly. He wanted to defend Onslaught, even if he himself couldn’t truly understand how despite the programming, and Onslaught’s shamed explanation, the commander would not protect his gestalt mate at all costs. He knew that if it were Sunstreaker, and he were programmed to be loyal to whomever was hurting his twin, Sideswipe would wilfully allow agony to rip through his processor and frame to protect his brother.

Sunstreaker was thinking the same line of thought, and could not, would not understand how Onslaught just stood there, and in his swirling anger, he blamed Onslaught as much as he blamed Megatron; and Onslaught was more readily accessible.

The thoughts ghosted through to Sideswipe, and he gasped. “Sunny! Please. It’s…”

“Don’t you defend him!” Sunstreaker growled. 

“I’m not.” Sideswipe whispered. “I just…well I can’t pretend to understand. If it was you I would go to the Pit and back. I would let Megatron tear me apart limb by limb if it meant saving your life. But it’s not just the pain that would be inflicted on him, his processor would crash on him, then who would take care of Vortex then?”

“Excuses!” Sunstreaker snarled. He had remained in Sideswipe’s hold thus far, but suddenly Sideswipe was shoved away, powerful arms pushing his frame away until he could no longer hold onto Sunstreaker. Another shove sent the ruby twin a few steps backwards, the hard line connection between them becoming taught. 

“Sunstreaker!” Sideswipe shouted. “Calm the Pit down!” 

“He…Onslaught…” Anger prevented Sunstreaker from conveying his thoughts. “He did nothing, and you defend him!” He finally spat, and with a final thrust, the one way hard line connection between them was severed, the jack tearing from the port in Sunstreaker’s wrist. The sudden disconnection without the file first being shut down, sent a backlash of pain through to Sideswipe, Sunstreaker’s sensor net also protesting at the forced termination.

Sunstreaker needed to get out of that room, and out of Combaticon HQ. It felt as though the walls were closing in on him, and the desire to do damage surged through him. But Sideswipe wasn’t letting him go anywhere.

“Sunstreaker, you need to calm down.” The ruby twin told his highly strung other half. 

“I am calm! If I wasn’t you’d be off-line right now.” Sunstreaker sneered in response.

This time anger surged through Sideswipe. “Frag sake Sunny, what d’you think you’re gonna do? Take on Onslaught, here on his base, with his gestalt around him? Or head for Nemesis and take on Megatron? The first isn’t going to happen, and Megatron, something like that needs planning.”

“Then we plan.” Sunstreaker snarled. He was feeling irrational but he wasn’t so stupid to know that what Sideswipe said wasn’t the truth. “And then we kill the bastard.” 

Ignoring his brother’s use of human slang, Sideswipe stepped away from his brother. “You know we can’t take him on alone, but I promise Megatron will get his comeuppance, and we’ll make sure we’re there to see it.”

“Not good enough.” Sunstreaker growled as he watched Sideswipe pick up the medical items he had used earlier with Vortex, which were now scattered on the floor after he had shoved Sideswipe away. “He needs to die, and he needs to know why.” An angry flare of energy washed over Sideswipe, drawing his attention back to Sunstreaker who looked him in his optics, his gaze deep and full of promise. “I will make him pay for this Swipe. And before his spark fades, I will tell him why.” His words were icy cold but Sideswipe gave no response, instead he pushed out a calming wave as he placed the objects back on the righted tray.

“Coward.” Sunstreaker snarled when he received a wall of silence from his brother, but Sideswipe ignored the insult, instead concentrating on calming Sunstreaker down; if his twin were to lose it here, on the Combaticon base, and what Onslaught witnessed in the shower rack was nothing, then they could kiss goodbye to their liaisons with their Decepticon lovers. Onslaught would undoubtedly banish them from his base. It was one thing to meet the wrath of one another from opposing sides during battle, but this was the Combaticon’s safe place, and Onslaught had opened it up to the Autobot twins. But if he couldn’t trust them here, well, what was to stop the commander taking the pair prisoner instead.

“Sunny…” Sideswipe finally responded, but was abruptly cut off.

“Don’t you Sunny me!” Was the snapped retort, Sunstreaker becoming more agitated. He felt such a failure, always had been and always would be. He had failed to both protect and avenge Sideswipe, and himself, despite vowing to kill each and every one of their past abusers, and undoubtedly, he would fail to avenge Vortex. Pit, he couldn’t even help the damaged mech, proving he was just as useless as he felt.

Mechs like him didn’t succeed in life. Okay, so he succeeded in not dying, but what kind of life was it to spend each and every cycle, fighting for the right to survive. Instead he had to live with whatever was thrown at him, and was branded a monster when his emotions got the better of him.

“Sunny.” Sideswipe tried again. “Don’t do this to yourself. I should’ve never shown you what happened. I’ve just made things worse.”

Sunstreaker growled, his emotion a broiling mix of anger and frustration as he pulled Sideswipe across the small distance between them, their frames clashing together. Before Sideswipe could pull himself together, wave after wave of angry spark energy pulsed through the bond and their armoured chests, causing the ruby twin to arch into golden chest plates and cry out; a cry born of the pain from the sudden onslaught on his spark.

Before Sideswipe had chance to return the exchange, Sunstreaker gripped the back of his helm and pulled him into a crushing kiss. Further pain skittered through Sideswipe’s sensor net but eventually Sideswipe regained enough clarity to pull himself out of the kiss, and send his own spark pulse back. The pulse was hard, and although it was nowhere near as ferocious as Sunstreaker’s, it was still enough to pull a shout from Sunstreaker, and stall his golden twin for a moment. That was all Sideswipe needed and in quick succession, he sent several rolling spark pulses through, gaining some sort of control. But he was no fool. He knew Sunstreaker was not finished yet, and he needed to get the upper servo before his brother did.

With Sunstreaker trying to drag air in through various vents in order to cool his frame, Sideswipe took advantage, and with a swift move he threw his twin to the ground, using the weight of his frame to pin the other front liner down; all the while sending spark pulses through their bond and through their still closed chests.

“Slagger.” Sunstreaker growled as his frame clattered against the concrete floor, sounds reverberating around the room. Before Sideswipe could fully secure him to the ground Sunstreaker had flipped their positions, then suddenly all the anger was gone from the golden twin’s optics, and he whispered weakly, “Need you. Need your spark.” His emotions were so interchangeable, that even Sideswipe had trouble keeping up sometimes.

“Not here.” Sideswipe replied ruefully. He didn’t like to deny Sunstreaker his spark but they were exposed here, not in a safe place, no matter how much they believed they trusted their lovers.

A note of hurt spiked through the bond. “Please.” The golden twin pleaded. “Just our sparks.” It would be less of an issue if Sunstreaker was asking to interface; Sideswipe had no qualms about that, the exhibitionist that he could be, but their sparks were not for anyone else.

But Sideswipe knew the tell-tale sign. Sunstreaker was close to closing himself down emotionally, so that he couldn’t hurt any more, and if he did that then he would be of no use to Vortex. Sighing, the ruby twin pushed Sunstreaker upwards a little, putting space between their chest plates before rolling Sunstreaker back onto his back. Settling back over him, Sideswipe braced himself on his arms, and commanded his chest to open.

There was no arousal between the two of them, no need to grind their frames against one another, as the merge was out of Sunstreaker’s need for a deep connection, emotional support. Sunstreaker looked at Sideswipe with gratitude in his optics, and Sideswipe pushed the thanks away; that was not why he was doing this, for Sunstreaker’s gratitude.

“Love you.” Sideswipe whispered, and in response Sunstreaker’s chest parted. With their spark chambers now exposed, energy crackled around them while their sparks called out to one another. Neither was sure who was first to allow their protective crystal covers to fall away, maybe it was in synchronicity, but both dove into one another’s sparks with a ferocity that overwhelmed them.

It took a moment for either to gain any semblance of control and when they did, love was the first feeling to emerge through the connection, quickly followed by unwavering devotion to one another. It didn’t matter what words they threw at each other, and no other Autobots paralleled the twins when they got into a spat, but they always remained devout to one another; their angry words only an extension of their need to protect each other. 

Then an intense calm pulsed through, filling all of Sunstreaker’s senses, his tense frame relaxing a little as Sideswipe sent wave after calming wave through.

 _You can do this Sunny_. Sideswipe’s words filled Sunstreaker’s processor, his thoughts, and he wanted to believe the whispered words. The energy around the pair grew in force, and Sunstreaker fed off his twin, taking everything he could from their merge. _Tex needs you to be here, not out there seeking revenge._ Sunstreaker knew Sideswipe was right.

With each pulse, each wave of understanding and love, the energy between them grew, then both of the twins lost control, overload cresting through their sparks and frames like a solar flare. Fingers dug where they held, as though holding on for their lives, frames arching into one another, their open spark chambers hidden from any prying optics. Then as quickly as their merge had begun, their sparks retreated back into their casing, crystals shields sliding back into place, the energy around them bleeding into nothing more than a gentle lapping of fields.

~|~

Sunstreaker stood in the doorway, the low light from the hallway stretching his shadow along the bare floor and onto the berth. Matt grey armour was also highlighted by the small shaft of light, showing no movement from the Decepticon who lay on his side, back to his visitor. Taking the fact that Vortex had not told him where to go as a good sign, the Autobot stepped over the threshold into the room, letting the door slide shut behind them, plunging them both into darkness.

Adjusting his vision, the front liner moved across the small space to the edge of the berth, and waited for a response. When none came he tentatively called out. “Tex?”

Releasing a frustrated vent at the unresponsiveness, Sunstreaker sat on the edge of the berth, one leg tucked up, the other with a pede braced on the floor; ready to react if Vortex were to take him by surprise. Placing a careful, but firm servo on a square shoulder, Sunstreaker tried again. “Tex, you awake?”

A nondescript vent left the interrogator but he remained with his back to Sunstreaker. “I don’t deserve this.”

Startled at the sound of Vortex’s voice, Sunstreaker gave himself a moment before asking, “Deserve what?”

“This.” An arm rose, as though signalling to something, before dropping weakly to the berth. 

“Megatron will pay, I promise you that.” Sunstreaker didn’t know how, but it was the only thing he could think of saying.

“Heh! Good luck with that.” Vortex replied, before adding, “But that wasn’t what I mean.”

Sunstreaker frowned at the heli-former’s back. “Then you’ll have to explain to me Tex.” 

This time an annoyed huff left the Decepticon, as if Sunstreaker should know what he was talking about. “This!” He hissed. “You, worrying about me. _Caring_ for me.” The Decepticon spat the word, as if caring for someone was somehow wrong. “I’m sick and twisted, dirty and damaged. And I belong to Megatron.” The room fell silent again for a long moment before he added, “Always have and always will. And the sooner you get that into your glitched processor, the sooner we can go back to beating the slag outta one another.” The words were weak, completely lacking the venom that should have accompanied them, and if the situation had not been what it was, Sunstreaker would easily have laughed at the last comment.

But none of this was a laughing matter, and Sunstreaker was deeply concerned over Vortex’s state of processor. “You don’t mean that.”

A weak buzz of anger flared from the interrogator, and he finally pulled himself up, unshielded optics blazing at the Autobot as he turned to face him, mouth twisted in an ugly sneer. The venom he had failed to use previously, now hard and biting. “I mean every stinking word.” he spat. “You were nothing but a bit of fun. I just wanted to know why Onslaught was so enthralled by that twin of yours, and he wasn’t going to let me near the glitch so I came after the next best thing. _You!_ ”

Cobalt orbs of light remained fixed on the Decepticon, face plates partially lit by his own ruby optics. “I don’t believe you.” Sunstreaker whispered, not trusting his vocaliser to crack. He knew what Vortex was going through, some of what he was feeling. He had said similar words himself. But he had always had Sideswipe by his side to pull him out of the well of darkness he would shroud himself in. And he was still here, still fighting his own demons during his low moments, granted, but he survived, and if he could rise above it, then maybe Vortex could too.

“Then you’re a fool.” Disdain for the Autobot filled Vortex’s features as he leant towards the Autobot. “I used you for my own pleasure, and sure, it was a good ride but it’s over now. Don’t need you or your pity. I don’t want you, and you shouldn’t want me. I’m nothing but a dirty monster.” Vortex made a move that could have been a prelude to an attack, but Sunstreaker remained motionless, and no attack came.

Anger suddenly distorted Sunstreaker’s face. “What makes you so different to the rest of us!? Yes, you’re a sadistic fragger, twisted beyond even my comprehension, but you have a spark. And it may be dark and perverse, and full of hate, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t yearn being cared for.” 

Vortex turned his helm away, partly in anger and partly in shame. “So you do think I’m a monster.”

“Look at me.” Sunstreaker demanded, reaching up to the interrogator’s face, turning it back to his own. “Look at me, please.” He asked more softly this time, and over bright optics met his cooler ones. “I know you could kill me, not as quickly or as easily as I could you, but I know you can. And I don’t doubt for a moment that your processor is currently calculating how to overpower me as I speak. But I know you don’t want to, and that counts for something.” Sunstreaker paused. “Yes, you are a monster,” Vortex flinch, trying to pull his face away, but Sunstreaker kept a hold on his chin plate. “And I will never condone what you’ve done, and will still do. But who of us are not monsters? Not all of us were created during the war. Some of us had lives before that. Pit, I had a life before the rings. But we are what we are now, because how else will we survive?”

Vortex pulled away, Sunstreaker letting him this time. “As for belonging to Megatron,” The Autobot continued, despite feeling mentally exhausted. He was a mech of actions rather than words, and he had no idea if anything he said was helping. “He owns your processor, I understand that now, but that doesn’t mean he owns your spark, or your frame.” Sunstreaker reached out again, but Vortex fully turned away this time, settling himself back down on the berth, resuming his original position.

Awkward silence filled the room as Sunstreaker silently watched the Decepticon. It would be so much easier to walk away, to leave Vortex, but his spark constricted at the very idea of doing that. Growling softly to himself, ignoring what it could mean, he risked the Combaticon’s violent reaction and slipped down on the berth behind him. With the heli-former’s rotors folded and nestled against his back, his rotor hub pulled in tightly, Sunstreaker was easily able to settle close to the Combaticon’s back.

For a while, the pair lay there in silence, neither moving, and neither touching the other. Both of their EM fields were pulled in tight, wrapped around themselves and away from one another, neither one of them wanting to be the one first to give in. Sunstreaker was the one who failed; his need to know that his lover was as okay overwhelming his pride, and he loosened the hold on his energy.

One arm tucked under his helm, the other against his chest, Sunstreaker ensured he didn’t accidently touch Vortex physically, and slowly he let his energy creep out towards him, slipping over his frame in a gentle caress. “We all need a little love and care.” He whispered, his systems stalling momentarily at the words that slipped out of his mouth.

“Even Megatron?” A tired voice replied; Vortex seemingly oblivious to the context of the words, and Sunstreaker’s small reaction.

A violent snort left the front liner. “No, he needs his helm on a platter, but then again, maybe if he had some love…” Sunstreaker’s vocaliser froze. _What the frag!?_ He mentally berated himself for such liberal use of the word. It wasn’t the idea of _maybe if Megatron had some love_ that was currently freaking him out, it was the fact that he was talking about that feeling at all, to Vortex.

Today aside, they had always known where they stood with one another; and some of what Vortex had said was true, it was about the pleasure. The hot, unbridled rush of ‘facing one another, anywhere and in any way that they could, each always trying to outdo the other. The most _romantic_ it had ever been was that one time, when Vortex was laid on his berth after a rigorous session and Sunstreaker had the urge to paint the interrogator in his sated and vulnerable position. Only, Vortex was not completely sated, he was still hungry and finally pulled Sunstreaker’s attention from the steel sheet he had commandeered to paint on, to himself. It wasn’t long before Vortex became a living piece of art himself, Sunstreaker using his grey plating as a canvas, and his paint covered fingers to decorate it. The touches had started teasing and slow, but soon they were their wild and insatiable selves; pushing one another to their limits before falling blissfully over the other side. Sunstreaker had quickly pulled Vortex into the wash rack, his own frame inevitably covered in paint, and what started as clean up shower, turned hot and steamy once again.

Sunstreaker squirmed as the memory of that time popped up from his memory banks, and he tried his best to stop his arousal bleed through his energy. It was not the right time, as he had already told Vortex earlier, so instead he concentrated on the fact that the grey mech had loosened his own hold on his EM field, letting it lap with Sunstreaker’s, encouraging its touch. The front liner could sense that Vortex was on the cusp of recharge, and how he had held out this long considering what he had been through, was beyond Sunstreaker. The interrogator clearly had more stamina than Sunstreaker gave him credit for.

Pressing forward slightly, the Autobot let his golden frame come into contact with Vortex’s rotors, just enough to offer physical comfort, but not enough that the heli-former would feel trapped on the berth, and when Vortex made no move to push him away, Sunstreaker wrapped a protective arm around his lover’s waist.

He wasn’t sure what story he was going to come up with, what explanation he would give to his own faction for his extended absence, but for now he was not leaving Vortex’s side. He wanted to be here when the Decepticon woke. He knew Sideswipe would remain at the Combaticons HQ as long as he was here, and he hoped that his ruby counterpart could come up with some plausible excuse; Sunstreaker may be artistically creative, but Sideswipe was a whole other barrel of creative.

“Hate you.” Vortex rasped, his systems finally shutting down.

Sunstreaker tightened his hold around Vortex’s waist for a second before relaxing it. “Hate you too.” He replied, a smirk stretching across his mouth before he initiated his own recharge protocols.

~|~

Onslaught stood stiffly in front of the large console in his office, his Autobot lover behind him, his aft resting on the edge of the commander’s desk, arms crossed over his ruby chest.

“So, it’s the silent treatment from you then Slaught.” The Combaticon commander silently watched the camera footage. “Very mature.” Sideswipe added in a not very mature tone.

Venting, Onslaught kept his optics on the screen. “You are always free to go.” He offered. 

The large frame stiffened further as the Decepticon felt arms band around his waist, Sideswipe’s shorter build not allowing him to drape his arms over broad shoulders, and the front liner buried his face against Onslaught’s back plating, “You gonna watch his quarters…” He checked his chronometer, had they really been here that long!? “ _All_ night?” Onslaught merely grunted in response. “Does he even know you have a camera in there?” Sideswipe’s words were muffled as he nuzzled the plating he rested against.

“All rooms here have cameras in.” Came the flat response. “The ones in the quarters are not always on though, and when they are there are only ever watched by me.”

“kinky fragger.” Sideswipe smirked.

Shaking Sideswipe off his frame, “I am not in the mood.” He stated, watching the silent play in front of him. He had watched the exchange between Sunstreaker and Vortex and now they were laying on the berth, the Autobot wrapped around his interrogator, and neither had moved for a long while. Onslaught could only assume they were in recharge, but he was not going to risk not keeping an optic on them.

“Then I will just have to get you in the mood.” Undeterred by the cold shoulder the commander had given him, Sideswipe wrapped his arms back around the larger mech, sending a pulse of suggestive energy over him at the same time.

“Is that all you ever think about?” Onslaught asked, but this time he didn’t bother shaking the smaller mech off.

“Around you, mostly.”

That comment stung Onslaught a little. Sure, what little time they spent together was spent mainly interfacing, but the two talked too, and clearly, stupidly, the commander had believed that maybe there was something a little more to their relationship.

“But can you blame me?” Sideswipe continued as his servos began roaming heavy plating.

“Look Sideswipe, it is because of you that I went against my better judgment and let Sunstreaker near Vortex in the first place. And look how that turned out.” The commander remained motionless, as though Sideswipe were not even touching him.

“But that wasn’t Sunny’s fault.” 

“That may well be. But I have known Vortex a long time, I know his behaviour patterns…”

“So he would have tried to force you to ‘face him then?” Onslaught refrained from answering, which Sideswipe noted, and instead the commander picked up from where he had left off.

“After the silence comes the violence. I should have been the one there, not Sunstreaker. He had no right to see him that vulnerable.”

Sideswipe pulled away, taking a few steps back. “What right do you have to say who Vortex should turn to? It’s bad enough that Megatron owns his processor, all of your processors, but now you’re claiming a stake in the control of Vortex’s life too.”

Onslaught finally took his optics off the screen, certain that both were in recharge, he could always go and check of course, and turned to face his young lover. “I am not trying to control Vortex, but he does need protecting, and I am his commander.” Sideswipe actually understood what Onslaught was saying. He felt the same way about Sunstreaker; only he did his protecting from the shadows, and only when required.

The two studied each other silently for a moment.

“He’s perfectly safe with Sunny. Yes, Sunny’ll defend himself if he needs to, but only if he needs to. He isn’t the monster you all think he is.”

“And Vortex is?” Sideswipe raised an optic brow, and Onslaught found he couldn’t really argue the point.

“Look, I’m not going anywhere until Sunny’s ready to leave Tex, and I’ve no doubt that no matter what illustrious story I come up with about why we are AWOL, our afts will be handed to us on a plate, which means brig time at the very least. So it could be a while before we see you guys again, battle notwithstanding of course, so instead of arguing…”

Onslaught gave an undignified huff as he leant against the console. “I am not arguing.”

“Debating then. Instead of debating who should be taking care of Vortex, let them work it out for themselves, and in the meantime,” Sideswipe retraced the few paces he had stepped away from Onslaught, fingers of one servo now sliding up and down the commander’s arm as a coy look flashed over Sideswipe’s features, “we should occupy ourselves.” The front liner stretched his frame and placed a kiss on Onslaught’s mask. 

Visored optics watched the face below him. Scrap! He was putty in the Autobot’s servos.

Before the Decepticon had time to say anything, Sideswipe was smirking. “Still not in the mood huh!? Clearly I’m not doing this right.” And the front liner dropped to his knees. “And for the record, it’s not just about the ‘facing.” 

Confusion swept through Onslaught. Had Sideswipe read his earlier thoughts? Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on which way you looked at it, the Combaticon’s processor was distracted from that thought as he received a nip to the inside of one of his thighs, followed by a strip of wet heat as Sideswipe licked over the area he had bitten, tightness curling in his tank while his hands were already gripping the console, and Sideswipe had barely begun.

The lick was quickly followed by another nip, only this time it was further up his thigh, and at the same time black servos toyed with the seams at the back of his knees. Primus, they had never been a particularly sweet spot of his, but whatever the front liner’s fingers…correction, his claws were out…were doing there, he certainly wasn’t going to stop them; unless his knees gave way of course.

The nips and licks to his thighs were now peppered with kisses and sucks, the Autobot had made his way up one thigh and was now working down the other, completely ignoring his already heated interface panel. During their talks, Sideswipe had told him that he and Sunstreaker kept themselves to themselves, interfacing wise, and sometimes Onslaught found himself fantasising over the two, and how his little Autobot had become so skilled in the art of pleasuring.

Sideswipe heard his name slip past Onslaught’s lips. It was only a whisper, but he still caught it, and he smiled as pleasure filled warmth spread through his frame. Onslaught could be an uptight glitch most of the time, so to hear him come undone was a thrill that was almost enough to push Sideswipe into overload without even being touched. But Sideswipe had massive reserves of control, when needed.

Feeling the heat pouring from the interface panel near his face, any thoughts of drawing this out diminished. They probably would have all night to draw this out, as he couldn’t see his twin and Vortex coming out of recharge soon, but as he and Onslaught had been interrupted from their earlier activities, when the interrogator decided to lose his slag, his own charge was quickly reignited.

With his optics unfocused on the opposite wall, Onslaught was not watching the Autobot so it was a shock, all be it a pleasurable one, when the wet heat that had been assaulting his thighs, suddenly struck at his interface panel, and a hiss of pleasure left his frame. Feeling more than a little pent up after the day he had had, Onslaught didn’t bother with trying to fight against giving in, instead he willingly let his panel retract. Sideswipe was almost a little disappointed that he didn’t have to tease the commander any longer, then again…

Whether or not he wanted it to, Onslaught’s spike immediately pressurised; he was certainly wound up with one thing and another. He had barely glanced down at Sideswipe’s helm before that wicked glossa, which he was sure he would never tire of, licked a slow, hot trail from base to tip on the underside of his spike. “Primus!” He moaned. 

Smirking, Sideswipe decided not to waste any time as he wanted to hear his name called in abandon again, and he wanted to take Onslaught’s processor off the events of the day, if only for a short while. Sliding his servos from the back of the commander’s knees, he moved one to a hip, ready to control the buck that was sure to come, and the other he wrapped round the thick base of the rigid spike. No sooner as he had done this, he took the head of Onslaught’s spike into his mouth and laved at the tip with his glossa.

Onslaught’s frame tensed, and his hips fought against the front liner’s tight hold, but Sideswipe remained in control, pulling his head back in time with the partial thrust. Onslaught was a much bigger mech in stature, and with that…well, if Sideswipe was not careful, the Decepticon could do some damage. Quickly gaining a rhythm with his mouth, Sideswipe began pumping with his servo, his actions full of intention, and Onslaught was hurtling towards overload very quickly.

Lust coursed through the Autobot and he released his own spike, just to take the pressure off it, allowing him to concentrate on attending to Onslaught. If he thought the larger mech could control his thrusts he would take his own spike in is other servo, but he knew Onslaught a little by now, and he knew that despite his mostly controlled demeanour, when he let go, whatever the reason, then he really let go.

Fingers creaking as he gripped the console tightly, Onslaught gritted his denta, the pleasure just too much for him and the need to thrust, hard and deep overwhelmed him. Eventually he uncurled one of his servos from the console edge, joints unlocking from the tension they had been under, and moved it to the back of Sideswipe’s helm, demanding more. “Deeper!” he gasped, but Sideswipe maintained his control. He liked to push his boundaries, but he knew what those boundaries were. 

Onslaught growled. He was exhausted, and angry, and he suddenly needed release. “Need more.” He tried to keep the desperation out of his vocals, and failed miserably. Sideswipe allowed his lips to slip off as he reached the spikes tip, all the time his servo continued its endeavours, further winding the commander up. 

“Now, now Slaught.” The front liner’s voice was filled with his own growing charge. “The best things come to those who wait.” He knew what a killer that need for faster and harder was, but he would just taunt him this way a little longer…

“Frag waiting!” Onslaught growled, and he hauled Sideswipe to his pedes and propelled him backwards, not stopping until the desk he headed for caught the backs of Sideswipe’s legs. “Now we do it my way!” Despite Onslaught’s roughness, nothing the Autobot could not handle, Sideswipe chuckled as he is frame was twisted around, and he was shoved chest down on the empty desk.

Pain skittered through his sensory net as his spike became trapped between the hard metal of the desk top, and his own frame, but Sideswipe was completely unfazed, instead he just stretched his arms out to grip the far edge of the desk, and ground his hot spike against the cool metal.

Seeing the ruby Autobot sprawled over his desk that way, and grinding his hips, revved Onslaught up no end, and nudging white thighs apart his fingers roughly grazed across the remaining part of Sideswipe’s interface panel. “Open!” He demanded gruffly, his lover willingly complying.

Sideswipe was aware of how would up Onslaught was right now, and fully expected him to sheath himself with no preparation, it was only what Sideswipe would do if the circumstances were reversed, and he braced himself. 

Shock was the first thing to register before pain zinged through his valve and burst through his frame. It was the front liner’s turn to grip tightly at the surface now, and he growled as Onslaught pulled on his hips, seating himself deeper. Pain struck at Sideswipe’s core again, his denta clenching as his vents hissed, pulling heat away from his circuits, and he moaned the Combaticons names in a mixture of lust and pain.

Feeling the Autobot’s valve both fight against, and suckle on his spike, sent Onslaught’s blinding lust into overdrive and any control he had left, slipped, his pace becoming harder and faster. As Sideswipe was filled, over and over, a mix of pleasure and pain bloomed through his frame, pushing him towards overload. His own spike rubbed uncomfortably at the desk underneath him, but the stimulation was none the less intoxicating to the front liner.

Maintaining the heady pace, Onslaught shuttered his optics while his movements were accompanied by a myriad of thoughts and feelings, each one fuelling his driving need, and he took them all out on his lover’s frame.

Megatron…

Vortex…

Hate…

Anger…

Fear…

Shame...

His thoughts of Megatron were murderous, full of hatred and anger. Vortex instilled just as much anger in him, just why he had to bait the warlord was beyond Onslaught, and for that alone it was little wonder the interrogator ever came out of his scrapes with their leader alive. But Onslaught’s anger was tinged with fear. Fear that one day Megatron would go too far, and equally, he feared completely losing the heli-former to his insanity; both very real threats.

Then there was his shame. The shame that he could do nothing to protect his team; they would forever be at the mercy of Megatron. Some commander he was.

With each thrust, each jab at Sideswipe’s valve, the swirling thoughts and feelings were cast aside until all that was left, was the pleasure he took from his lover. It was a groan, coming from Sideswipe, pinned below him, that brought him back to the here and now, and his thoughts to the Autobot; his energetic, mischievous and thrill seeking Autobot.

Suddenly, his thoughts of Sideswipe were all consuming, the younger mech becoming the centre of his universe as he careered towards overload. Pleasure coiled tight and low in his abdomen until he could not keep a hold of it anymore, and it was with a guttural moan his release came. Fingers squeezed tightly on the small hips under him, giving him purchase as his hips bucked hard and fast, his senses filled with static as Sideswipe’s name echoed around the room.

Underneath him Sideswipe’s frame panted wildly. The front liner was aware that Onslaught was lost to his own pleasure, that knowledge propelling the Autobot into his own overload and as he let go, and he was vaguely aware of shouting his lover’s name as his vision whited out.

The air was thick with the scent of heated systems and mech fluids, and the pair remained motionless, both working desperately to cool their frames. Sideswipe carefully released his hold on the desk before sagging against it, resting his heated cheek on the cool surface. Onslaught, shaky on his legs, delayed withdrawing from his lover’s heat. He wanted to stay there, just a little longer, but after such rigorous behaviour his frame was threatening to go into forced recharge.

“Sideswipe.” His vocals were just was wobbly as his legs. “I am sorry.”

Frowning to himself, Sideswipe prodded at the haze in his processor, trying to figure out why exactly Onslaught was apologising. Then he remembered the anger in the commander’s energy field, lashing against him like the tail end of an electro-whip. But there was more than anger, there was shame and hatred there too, but Sideswipe knew that none of it was directed at him and he shook his helm. “No…” He reset his vocaliser. “No apologies.” He replied. It wasn’t as if he had not taken anything from it.

Becoming more aware as the fog in his processor dissipated, Sideswipe felt the thick mess of transfluid underneath him, so pushing his frame up as much as he could with Onslaught still buried inside him, he glanced at the space between his abdomen and the desk. “Oops,” He rasped. “I think I made a mess on your desk.”

~|~

Checking his chronometer, Sunstreaker released a vent in tired frustration. He had woken from recharge every Earth hour after being plagued by both panic and concern bleeding through his memory fluxes, each only soothed away by the sight of Vortex in his arms. If he was honest, he had expected to find himself alone every time, but instead Vortex had turned around at some point during the night, his face now buried in the front liner’s chest while claws gripped tightly at plate edges, as though he was holding on for all his worth.

Sunstreaker felt the need to stretch his frame, needed to feel joints pop back into place, but he daren’t wake the recharging Decepticon with his movements, so he stayed as he was, pulling Vortex tighter into his embrace and settling back down to recharge again. Before fully succumbing, he reached across his bond with Sideswipe, just to make sure all was well with his twin. After the first time he had woken, Sunstreaker had found the bond distant, and he allowed himself a small smile before a little jealousy spiked through him. He wanted what Sideswipe had with Onslaught. He may have berated his twin some hours back, accusing him of indulging in pillow talk with the Decepticon commander, but in truth, he wanted Vortex to trust him like Onslaught seemed to trust Sideswipe. Granted, Onslaught would be none too happy to discover that his Autobot lover had shared what was private to him, with Sunstreaker, but he would soon learn that there were no secrets between the twins.

Feeling Sideswipe through the bond, and receiving a pulse of love from him never failed to settle the gold front liner, and finally he let himself slip back into recharge.

***

On cue, Sunstreaker came online again, his systems booting back up, panic flaring for a moment, but as everything came into focus he found himself looking into a pair of bright red orbs. “Tex?”

When Vortex didn’t respond, the Autobot wondered if the interrogator was glitching, that maybe his optics had booted up whilst the rest of his systems were still offline. For a moment he felt a little spooked at the scene in front of him, until he caught the slight movement of Vortex biting his lip, as though he were stopping himself from saying something.

“What is it Tex?”

“You stayed.” Vortex’s optics flickered as he forced himself to keep them on Sunstreaker’s face. “Didn’t expect to still find you here.”

Sunstreaker was a little hurt that Vortex thought he would abandon him. Granted, he couldn’t stay forever, and should never had stayed, but he would at least make sure he was okay before he left. But then again, could he really blame the Decepticon. His loyalty and processor were owned by Megatron, and he had been forced to bond with four other mechs to create their gestalt, but it seemed that no one had actually ever _cared_ for the heli-former.

Well, someone must have, at one point. He knew Vortex was built before the war broke out, so he must have had a mentor, but the truth was he didn’t know anything about his lover. Not where he came from, nor what he did before he became an interrogator. They never _talked_ , they only ever goaded one another. Maybe this was all wrong, trying to comfort the Combaticon. It wasn’t the kind of relationship they had, but something inside Sunstreaker implied that it was the kind of relationship he wanted, with Vortex.

“I’m here for you.” Sunstreaker finally offered. “If you’ll let me be.” It didn’t matter how much he wanted to help if the feeling was not reciprocated by Vortex.

Vortex snorted. “Are you going soft on me Autobot?” Sunstreaker couldn’t help but smile.

The heli-former knew he must have finally been broken when he found himself reacting to that smile. It began with his spark as it pulsed faster before warmth spread through his frame. _Idiot_ he snarked to himself. 

“So.” Sunstreaker started while awkwardness settled between them. “How you feeling?”

A grey shoulder shrugged, “How d’you think?” Yes, stupid question really. “I’ll live.” Sunstreaker nodded in understanding. “Won’t Prime be after your energon, for being out all night?” The twins never stayed overnight, which had always suited Vortex just fine.

“Nah!” Sunstreaker grinned. “But Prowl will be.” That warm feeling flared inside the interrogator again at that grin.

As the smile faded, the pair just stared at one another, neither knowing what to say until Sunstreaker broke the silence again. 

“Tex.” Vortex was just about to answer but before he could, those perfect lips pressed against his own. The kiss was soft, too soft, but the Combaticon didn’t push for more, he just let the feelings it provoked wash over him. Then Sunstreaker pulled away and searched the ruby optics for any sign that he should stop. In the light cast by both his, and Vortex’s optics, he could see thin lips, slightly parted. Moving his face back towards the interrogator, Sunstreaker paused, allowing Vortex the chance to pull away, but when he didn’t Sunstreaker pressed in for another kiss.

Vortex’s grip on Sunstreaker’s plating tightened as a need to both continue the kiss, and push his lover away warred inside the interrogator. It was all too much, the feelings that were roused inside him, but at the same time he didn’t want them to go away. Suddenly a quiet, but definite whimper left Vortex, and they both froze; Vortex in horror at his reaction, whilst Sunstreaker fully expected him to pull away. Parting their lips enough to speak, Sunstreaker whispered, “We can stop, if that’s what you want.”

Growling, Vortex pulled back a little in order to catch Sunstreaker’s optics. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.” Sunstreaker knew it was bravado coming from the Decepticon, but it was also an invitation to continue, and this time he brought a hand up to cup the side of Vortex’s helm, thumb brushing under an optic before leaning in and picking up where they had left off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry Acid, Vortex will get ~~a lot~~ more of that _comfort_ you have been waiting for in chapter 3. ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the third and final chapter. How will Onslaught react in the cold light of day to Sideswipe's night time revelation, and will Sunstreaker _finally_ comfort Vortex?
> 
> Despite already being OOC, I feel I have lost control of Vortex in this chapter, for which I apologise.

Sideswipe woke to find the space beside him cold and empty. Onslaught had been in recharge when the Autobot was disturbed by Sunstreaker through the bond during the night, but now in the small hours of the morning the Decepticon had gone. Ignoring his HUD’s demand to power back down Sideswipe first reached across the bond to check on his twin, a bubble of emotions greeting him but none of which he needed to worry about, so Sideswipe pulled himself back and dragged himself up off the berth. Stretching his frame, unkinking cables, the Autobot headed for the first of the two places he thought he might find the Combaticon commander.

His hunt finished with his first stop.

The common room was partially lit and sat at one of the tables, the dim light accentuating the curves in his heavy plating with the shadows it cast, was Onslaught. His face was completely unmasked while a data pad sat between his servos as they rested on the table, a partly consumed cube of energon glowing against the nearest servo.

Torn between not wanting to disturb the commander and wanting to keep him company, the decision was made for Sideswipe.

“You should still be recharging.” Came the flat voice.

Frowning at the morose vocals, Sideswipe quickly crossed the floor to the table. “Berth was cold without you.” Gold optics lifted to meet his.

“You are too pampered Autobot. We are soldiers, we should not expect comfort.”

Holding Onslaught’s stare, the ruby mech retorted with a barely detectable smirk. “Don’t normally hear you complaining.”

It was the Combaticon who broke the gaze between them, optics falling back to the data pad. “You should go and finish recharging.”

Dropping into the seat adjacent to the commander, the Autobot countered, “recharge is for the pampered,” amused optics watching for even the most infinitesimal response from his lover.

“Touché.” Onslaught shut off his data pad before picking up his energon. “Help yourself.” His servo and cube inclined towards the energon dispenser.

Tapping in his sub-space region, Sideswipe shook his helm. “S’okay, I'm sorted.”

“Ah, still do not trust us to not taint the energon.” Sideswipe gave a small smile. “You do know if I wanted you dead, you would be already.”

Sideswipe’s smile momentarily froze before turning into a salacious smirk, optics growing dark as he gestured to his frame. “What, and miss out on this.” Gold optics slid over the ruby chest, dropping to what he could see of white abdominal plates. Sideswipe had him there. “So,” The smirk was gone now, blue optics not so dark. “Why are you sat in here at this time?”

“Trouble recharging.” No further explanation was offered.

Cobalt optics flicking to the data pad on the desk, Sideswipe ventured, “What you reading?”

Onslaught’s optics followed Sideswipe’s to the darkened data pad. “A history of wars over the eras. The species of this planet seem to have spent as long fighting as they have been alive. At least we had peace, once upon a time.” The Autobot nodded in acknowledgement to what Onslaught was saying, but added nothing to the conversation. He knew about the planet’s history, Optimus had requested that they all become acquainted with it, but he had never taken much notice after that; his own bloody war his priority. “Am I boring you Sideswipe?”

Sideswipe looked a little sheepish. “Admittedly, I have very little regard for Earth’s history, usually too busy trying to not get blown up by your lot, but you never bore me Onslaught.” The pair fell silent.

“Thank you.” Sideswipe frowned at the commander. He had only said that Onslaught didn’t bore him. “For staying.” Onslaught added as an afterthought.

“Don’t need thanks.” Sideswipe replied gruffly.

The Decepticon’s gaze pinned the Autobot. “Still,” He started awkwardly. “I appreciate it, even if it does not seem like it.”

Shrugging a shoulder, Sideswipe cut through the awkward air with his signature grin. “Does this mean we’re going steady then?” Onslaught looked at the Autobot blankly. “You know, now I’ve stayed over for the night, does that mean we’re an _item_ …” The Decepticon still didn’t answer. “As in a serious relationship.” Sideswipe’s optics glinted mischievously in the dimly lit room.

“Oh,” Onslaught’s faceplates heated. “I…umm…”

Sideswipe chuckled. “I’m pulling your leg Slaught.”

Suddenly Onslaught didn’t know whether he should feel relieved or disappointed, and his optics dropped to the data pad as he toyed with the home button, flashing the screen on and off, on and off… Sideswipe was the only mech he knew who could make him feel awkward, inept.

A black servo closed over the commander’s bigger one, stilling the motion. “Talk to me Onslaught.” The data pad remained dark but Onslaught remained focused on it. “Maybe I can help.” Snorting, the Decepticon looked back up at his lover.

“You cannot save me Sideswipe, nor can Sunstreaker save Vortex.” The words stung both mechs. Sideswipe, because he knew that what Onslaught had said was true, and Onslaught because he knew that he was doomed to spend the rest of his life serving Megatron.

Squeezing the larger servo tightly, Sideswipe softly offered, “Maybe not, but we can try to comfort you.” Gold optics dipped down again and Sideswipe vented; and others thought Sunstreaker was a closed book. “Onslaught?”

Shame washed through the larger mech. Sideswipe had been trying to _comfort_ him since arriving at the base, and he had only abused that solace. “And my thanks to you was to abuse you.”

Confusion washed over Sideswipe until he realised what it was Onslaught referred to, his vents shuttering in frustration, releasing a gust of air. “It wasn’t as if I didn’t take anything from it. So you were a bit rough, isn’t that what attracted us to one another in the first place?”

There was a pause before Onslaught replied. “Yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I wanted to hurt you.” Onslaught steeled a look at the front liner. “I wanted to thrash out all of my anger, frustration and failures onto you, although at the time I was oblivious to you. You were just a means of release.” The front liner kept the Decepticon’s gaze, allowing the older mech to continue. “And worst of all, I was doing to you what Megatron had done to Vortex, what he has done to too many mechs, taking away your self-worth.”

Well, that was honest.

Silence hung heavily over the pair, both searching for the next thing to say. This time it was Sideswipe’s turn to drop his optics.

“I lost my self-worth a long time ago.” He started. “I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would ever make me feel worse than I did back in the Pits.”

Onslaught frowned at the younger mech, ignoring his suddenly churning tank. The Decepticon knew the Autobot had survived the Pits of Kaon, and that no matter the standing of a fighter they were used and abused behind closed doors. Patrons paid big creds for some alone time with a gladiator but he had never truly thought about what the twins could have gone through while there.

They had on occasion spoken of Sideswipe’s time there, the front liner regaling his lover with a whole manner of stories surrounding their fights, their victories, but the Autobot never spoke of the times behind the scenes.

“Sunstreaker and I were known as the resident whores,” the former gladiator continued, his optics boring an invisible hole in the table. “Who would do anything, as long as you had the creds. And there was a waiting list of punters all waiting for the chance to be able to dominate the ferocious gladiator twins, so our owner ran auctions. We didn’t have a choice in the matter…well, we did, we could’ve let ourselves be killed in the rings because that was the only way you left the Pits, but despite knowing what waits for you after the fights, if you survive, letting your component kill you is not as easy as it sounds. Sunstreaker and I were cowards, really.”

“There are many names I could use to describe you two, but coward is not one of them.” The Combaticon rumbled while conflicting emotions took a stranglehold on his spark, too many for him to just pick one out and act on it, so he remained indifferent, from the outside.

Aware that Onslaught’s energy field was now guarded, Sideswipe could only assume that the commander was disgusted with him, and the Autobot found that he couldn’t blame him. Finding out you had been sharing your berth with a former _pleasure bot_ would knock the air out of anyone's vents; but still Sideswipe was compelled to continued.

“In essence we were nothing but a pair of pleasure bots who just happened to be able to fight too. Truth is, our owner used our fights to attract a certain kind of punter and then watch the extra creds roll in as he whored us out. He earned a chunk off us that way.” Sideswipe ventured a glance at the commander’s face, bracing himself against the disgust he would undoubtedly see etched on his unmasked features. Despite expecting it, he didn’t think he could handle Onslaught being disgusted at him, and a part of him kicked himself for opening up. Sunstreaker was right, it would do them no good to open up to their foe.

“Sideswipe, I…” Onslaught didn’t know what to say. He had succeeded in treating Sideswipe just like all those others in Kaon had treated him. “I am sorry.” His words were barely a whisper, the commander knowing that an apology would not suffice in this instance.

Frown marring his face, Sideswipe kept his gaze on the Decepticon, even though his shame burned through him and he wanted nothing more to hide under some rock formation. “Sorry...why are you sorry? You weren’t there, were you? Granted, wewere often drugged up so most faces and designations are hazy.” Onslaught shifted uncomfortably, he didn’t want to imagine the stuff they had been forced to do.

Gold optics were the first to turn away. “I am sorry for bringing back those memories.”

A snort met Onslaught’s audials. “The memories never go away, Onslaught. Not of the forced interfacing, nor of the fights, the deaths at our servos in the name of sport, Pit, even now the deaths at our servos as Autobots. But Sunny and I are front liners, first into the fray, thrown to the wolves as it were, and never expected to come back. And if we do, well it’s a bonus because we’re around to lead the charge another cycle.” Sideswipe was so matter of fact about it all. “Truth is, we’ve always been used and abused, it’s a way of life for us and that’s why we're the way we are. It’s how we survive. D’you really think a bit of over rough ‘facing is going to have that much of an effect on me.” Sideswipe laughed at the commander’s face, blank as ever; but the laughter had a bitter edge to it. “I’m a big mech Slaught, and if I recall correctly, didn’t you frag me into a cliff wall the first time we ‘faced?”

Onslaught’s entire frame heated at the sudden memory of their first coupling. They had been in battle and had both ended up segregated from their factions. Sideswipe had been taunting him battle after battle until he found that all of his thoughts were consumed by the ruby Autobot, then suddenly they were face to face, and alone, and what started as a stand-off ended with several overloads and the beginnings of their _relationship._

Sideswipe was sure he was going to be asked to leave when Onslaught rose from his seat; that he had blown apart whatever he and the commander had between them with his revelation, so surprise flared through cobalt optics as a large servo was held out towards him, palm open.

“Come.” Onslaught softly demanded. “Let us go back to my quarters.” Sideswipe remained motionless, unsure what to make of the situation. “If you would rather stay in one of the empty rooms, I will understand.”

Sideswipe shook his helm. The last thing he wanted was to recharge alone. Missions, brig time and med bay visits notwithstanding, had been recharging with Sunstreaker his entire life, and those lonely nights were hard enough, but now that he had allowed old memories to surface, recharging alone was the last thing he wanted to do. Afraid that Onslaught would change his mind Sideswipe clasped the proffered servo and stood to face the Decepticon. “No,” he finally replied. “Too pampered to recharge alone.”

Raising an optic ridge, Onslaught grasped the faint thread of the front liner’s humour, wondering if this was why the Autobot was always so larger than life; a way to mask his apparent lack of self-worth

Silently, the large Decepticon led his Autobot lover to his quarters, where the only thing he would do right now would be to hold the younger mech until he fell back into recharge. But a thought had begun to gnaw at him and he wondered if he would ever be able to trust himself around the younger mech again. Could he, in his times of frustration and anger, be trusted to not take it out on Sideswipe’s frame again? The Autobot had become some kind of release for him, and on the plus side he more than enjoyed Sideswipe’s company. He found the front liner kept him sane in the madness of everything. But what if that was all Sideswipe was to him, a means of release, and suddenly Onslaught felt no better than those mechs who had paid to spend time with the former gladiator, and he despised himself.

~|~

Slowly, Sunstreaker encouraged Vortex to change his position, his servos firm but gentle when manoeuvring the heli-former onto his back until his gold frame partially laid over the Decepticon. The Autobot refrained from fully rolling on top of Vortex, he didn’t want the grey mech to feel trapped despite the fact that Vortex could very easily overpower him, and although Sunstreaker made every effort to ensure that the Combaticon knew he could stop at any time, he himself was being driven by the seed of arousal that grew within.

With Vortex now partially lying beneath him, gold legs twinned with grey ones whilst Sunstreaker’s servo gently stroked at the still healing plating, the light contact against Vortex’s plating causing the Combaticon to shudder; the vibration running through his frame to their kiss.

Running his servo down Vortex's frame, Sunstreaker's mouth broke their kiss and followed suit, lips moving to the Decepticon's throat, sucking at cables. Vortex suppressed his moan but Sunstreaker felt the quiver in his frame. So far Vortex showed no sign of anxiety however, Sunstreaker still wanted to be sure that this was what he wanted. His mouth trailing a series of kisses from neck cables to chest plates, denta gently biting every now and then, Sunstreaker shifted his optics to look up at Vortex's face. Ruby optics were shuttered the Decepticon biting the corner of his lip, no doubt guarding against any soft sounds that could slip through.

"You can say stop at any time." Sunstreaker's voice, gruff with arousal, filled the room as he moved his lips away from grey plating, noticing the tiny furling of a lip. "Tex." He ventured when no reply came.

Optics on-lined dimly and Vortex lifted his helm off the berth marginally to look down at Sunstreaker. "Don't make me have to take over." He ground out, annoyed that Sunstreaker had stopped lavishing attention on his frame. 

Running his servo back up a grey waist, Sunstreaker quickly resumed his touches again. He didn't want Vortex to take over, to become rough as they challenged one another for control as they normally did, because something in his spark wanted to care for the Decepticon, to show him that he was cared for. Sunstreaker wanted Vortex to know that he was not using him, not like Megatron did, even if that is what their relationship was built on originally; using one another for self-gratification.

Shifting, Sunstreaker repositioned himself, dipping his helm down to lick a hot wet strip across taught abdominal plates and this time Vortex was unable to hold back the shudder that rippled through his frame, his digits curling tightly into the berth padding they lay on while folded rotors rattled against one another. But the Autobot could sense that Vortex wasn't completely relaxed, his energy field frigid and tight.

Pulling himself back up the berth Sunstreaker leant in for another kiss, startling the Combaticon who was seemingly lost in his own little world.

Vortex's optics snapped back online, bright and fearful for a moment before flickering and dimming slightly as he allowed the front liner to kiss him. He wanted this, so much, but he hadn't known how much he wanted the gentle touches, not until now. Forcing himself to relax a little, Vortex let his energy slowly unwind as Sunstreaker's aroused field caressed at his frame.

He had never imagined the Autobot like this, attentive, caring. It wasn't why he had been attracted to Sunstreaker in the first instance. Pit, he hadn't been lying when he told his lover a few hours back how he had only hooked up with him because he wanted to know why Onslaught was so enthralled with Sideswipe, except, following their fight come fragging session they had instantly became addicted to one another. But there was nothing soft about their hook up.

However, this latest attack by Megatron had left him weak, vulnerable, and maybe that was Sunstreaker's fault. Maybe if the front liner had not turned up at the island and seen Vortex in this state, the interrogator would have just dealt with it the same way he always did; taking out his wrath on the nearest mech before slipping into his mad little word, shutting out everyone around him until he was ready to come out again, then finally dusting himself down and doing what he did best, terrorising everyone else.

Snarling softly into the kiss, Vortex finally let go of the berth padding, awkwardly moving his servos to Sunstreaker's frame, claws scraping against his lover’s perfect finish. Sunstreaker felt Vortex relax a little more so slowly he begun to move his servo to the interrogator’s hips before finger tips brushed lightly at the still dented interface panel.

Tension flared through Vortex momentarily until he reminded himself that Sunstreaker was not Megatron, and that he _wanted_ this. Sunstreaker’s fingers brushed against his panel again and this time, relaxing into the touch, pleasure tingled through Vortex’s interface equipment. Ending their kiss, Sunstreaker slid down the berth and repositioned himself so that he lay between Vortex’s legs, ruby optics watching his movements, Vortex drawing a sudden vent of air when one of his legs were hiked over a gold shoulder followed by Sunstreaker’s mouth suckling on the inside of one of his thighs, a small groan slipping past his lips.

Sunstreaker couldn’t help but smirk at Vortex’s reaction. “You like that?” The Autobot husked as he moved his mouth further along the grey thigh.

Vortex snarled in response, refusing to give the front liner the satisfaction of knowing that he had hit a sweet spot.

Sunstreaker’s mouth continued to travel along the inside of Vortex’s thigh until he met the inside juncture at the top of his leg where his glossa dipped in, brushing against the hidden cables there. Vortex’s frame stiffened, but this time it was pleasure and not fear which skittered through his frame, his denta only gritting in order to stop the sounds which threatened to escape again. Another lick to those cables had Vortex twitching, but it was the third lick which had him bucking, especially as it was Sunstreaker’s glossa sliding across his interface panel.

“Fragger.” The interrogator hissed as his frame loosened and he relaxed further.

Chuckling against the warm metal the Autobot ran his glossa across it again, only this time the lick was slower, firmer. “Let me taste you.” He whispered, surprise springing through Sunstreaker when the grey panel slid open after only a slight hesitation, exposing Vortex to the front liner. Allowing only a moment for the scent of the Decepticon to tingle at his olfactory senses, Sunstreaker licked out again, his glossa grazing over the opening of the valve in front of him.

Vortex didn’t even bother to hold back the buck of his hips, the touch of Sunstreaker’s glossa too good to deny. Servos now reached for the glossy black helm between his legs, his silent request for more, and Sunstreaker did not disappoint him. With another lick, this time Sunstreaker’s glossa dipped inside Vortex’s valve, catching on the first ring of sensors hidden there, Sunstreaker’s name slipping past his lips as he let the pleasure roll through his frame unhindered.

With Vortex’s energy now full of arousal and desire, Sunstreaker delved a little deeper, taking the time to seek out sensors and set them alight. He wanted Vortex to forget what had happened to him, and he wanted him to experience a different kind of interfacing, one he doubted the interrogator had experienced before.

Pleasure building, Vortex spread the leg not thrown over Sunstreaker’s shoulder, a little wider. “More.” He rasped. He would never have believed that such pleasure could be born from the softer touches; hard and fast tinged with pain his preference, but he wanted more of what the Autobot was giving him. Sunstreaker obliged, glossa working against sensor nodes in quick, firm licks, Vortex’s charge pooling in his abdomen, the warmth of impending overload already creeping through his frame.

The interrogator had been so emotionally shut off since his attack on Sunstreaker in the wash rack, and so tense that with little effort on Sunstreaker’s part, it wasn’t long before overload crashed through him, Sunstreaker’s glossa melting away any tension and self-hatred he was holding onto as Vortex shouted out. Clawed finger tips scrabbled for purchase on Sunstreaker’s helm, his frame arching from the berth, pressing himself against his lover’s mouth.

Only when Vortex relaxed back into the berth pad did Sunstreaker pull away, planting a kiss on an inside thigh before dropping the leg from his shoulder and pulling himself up the heli-former’s frame. “Okay?” He asked, still worried that this may be too much for the Combaticon. Vortex only managed a nod, his optics still bright in post overload. Sunstreaker smiled, leaning in for a brief kiss before pulling back and saying, “you can stop this at any time.” Once again, a nod was the only answer he received.

Sliding a servo over boxy hips, lifting a grey leg over his own hip, Sunstreaker opened one of his panels, allowing the cool air to envelope his heated spike as it pressurised. Pressing a kiss against lips again, Sunstreaker aligned the tip of his spike with the ready and slickened valve, and when Vortex gave no resistance to the contact he slowly pressed himself in.

Neither mech could control their moans, wet heat wrapping around Sunstreaker’s spike as he filled Vortex. Hilting himself, Sunstreaker finally paused to compose himself. He wanted slow and gentle, not hard and fast, but the urge to do what came naturally to the both of them tried to take control of his frame.

It took a growl from Vortex to pull Sunstreaker’s attention back to his lover. “You gonna lie there all day?” Sunstreaker snorted at the comment and stopped himself from making some soppy response; their relationship definitely could not handle too much mawkishness.

Before long, Sunstreaker was making long, lazy thrusts, his spike teasing clusters of sensor nodes, slowly filling Vortex only to pull away again; teasing him. Vortex’s vents were already working strenuously, his frame finding the slow pace far more intense than the rough and heady pace they were used to. Servos ran down Sunstreaker’s back, the interrogator paying no mind to the way his claws scraped over the yellow plating, colour nanites instantly repairing the mild scratches he inflicted while legs wrapped around the Autobot’s waist, the change in position allowing Sunstreaker to seat himself deeper, a servo gripping at one of the Decepticon's hips.

The slow, constant stroking inside Vortex’s valve built a steady charge, his plating flaring to keep his frame cool, allowing energy to crackle between his seams. Sunstreaker was in no better shape, his lust coiling tight in his tank, driving him on until his thrusts became more urgent as his need to let go surged through him; but he would not let go before Vortex, this was about the Combaticon.

Sunstreaker could always tell when Vortex was close. It was in the way the interrogator moved, the way he focused solely on himself when chasing his overload; that moment when he was so close but release was just out of reach. Picking up his pace a little more, the Autobot buried his face in the side of the Decepticon’s neck, his raspy vocals muffled, “let yourself go Tex.’

Vortex was vaguely aware of Sunstreaker, his focus solely on himself as he tried to reach that unattainable place. Overload was barrelling towards him, but not fast enough as his hips rose to meet Sunstreaker's over and over. Then the Autobot's words whispered through the haze, telling him to let go, and he didn’t need telling twice as Sunstreaker bit at a neck cable before thrusting in again, and the interrogator finally let go.

For the briefest of moments Vortex’s world became still as what little awareness he had left dissipated before everything imploded on him. Throwing his helm back, further exposing his neck to Sunstreaker, he shouted his lover’s designation into the dark room, once again arching off the berth and forcing their frames together.

With Vortex’s valve spiralling tightly around his spike it only took a few more deep thrusts from the front liner before he followed Vortex into the well of pleasure, Vortex’s name muffled as he further buried his face into the Decepticon’s neck. The servo still at the grey hips squeezed tightly before a tiny prick of consciousness within Sunstreaker’s processor made him loosen his grip; memories of the larger servo prints that had decorated those same hip plates only the day before, worrying Sunstreaker that the action would only remind Vortex of what had happened to him.

Surrendering to his overload, Vortex's taught frame slowly loosened, shuddering as warm pleasure crawled through him, awareness creeping in again whilst Sunstreaker's deep thrusts became a series of erratic jabs.

With the odour of heated metal filling the room, the lovers slowly came down from their high, small sparks of pleasure still skittering through them as their grip on one another slackened; their hold however, never breaking.

Sunstreaker made the first move, pulling his helm from the crevice of Vortex’s neck and levering himself until he could look at the heli-former’s face. Vortex’s optics focused on the Autobot, his gaze deep and piercing, sending Sunstreaker’s spark racing. “You okay?” Vocals were static laden.

For a moment Vortex only stared before a small smile, nothing like the sinister and creepy smile which usually adorned his face, spread across his lips. “Fine.” He whispered. Sunstreaker frowned at his response, causing Vortex to give a dark chuckle. “Okay, I’m better than fine, I’m good...great” Sunstreaker knew Vortex wasn’t being strictly honest but he relaxed his features, causing Vortex to chuckle again.

Reluctantly Sunstreaker extracted himself from Vortex’s frame, their groans smothered when Sunstreaker leant in for another kiss before sliding off the grey frame and setting next to the Decepticon, both of them focused on the ceiling. For a moment the silence which blanketed them as they lay there was comfortable as their systems worked to cool their frames.

“Thanks.” Vortex rasped.

Sunstreaker startled at the sound of Vortex’s voice, embarrassment evident in the interrogator’s vocals. “For what?” He ventured.

Vortex momentarily remained silent, despising himself and his weakness. “For not running.” He finally explained; ashamed of his gratitude towards the Autobot.

Sunstreaker snorted in mild amusement. “It’ll take more than all this to make me run.”

“Well, maybe you should.” It had only been a matter of time before the self-depreciation started; the part Vortex normally kept hidden.

The front liner heard the conflicting emotion in Vortex’s voice; a part of Vortex meant what he said whilst another part of him was craving attention, and Sunstreaker knew a thing or two about that. “And is that what you want?” Vortex remained silent. “Tex.”

A single shoulder shrugged beside the front liner. “Wouldn’t blame you. Stay with me and I’ll only drag you down with me.”

Sunstreaker rolled onto his side, helm propped on his fist so he could look at the Decepticon. “I’m fragging a Con in my spare time, and not just any Con, their demented interrogator,” Crimson optics moved from the ceiling to Sunstreaker. “Peace and safety are hardly high on my agenda.” Smirk quirking on his mouth, Sunstreaker leant in for a kiss. “Besides,” he pulled away. “You need someone here to pull you back up again.” Falling silent Sunstreaker lay back.

Vortex looked back up at the ceiling. He didn’t want to throw Sunstreaker’s words away by telling the Autobot that he was a fool, so instead he clung to the words, his servo sliding across the small space between their frames to catch hold of Sunstreaker’s servo. “Can’t you stay?” The interrogator frowned at his neediness. He felt ridiculous but he didn’t let go of the Autobot.

Squeezing Vortex’s servo Sunstreaker gave a wistful laugh. “Wish I could Tex, but I’m already in a whole heap of slag.” The Autobot didn’t even want to think what that trouble was.

“Sorry.” Vortex mumbled, embarrassed and wishing he had kept his mouth shut. “If you need to go…”

Squeezing the grey servo again, Sunstreaker replied, “I’m okay for a little longer, I think Swipe is still recharging.” Sunstreaker reached through the bond but Sideswipe’s response was only one of presence, implying that he was either too busy to notice the prod through the bond, or recharging. Sunsteaker opted for the latter as there wasn’t anything else evident through the bond. “And don’t be sorry, I chose to stay.”

Silence fell over them again, a little more awkward than previously as both mechs worried that maybe they had implied too much without saying much at all, and that maybe their feelings would not be reciprocated. Sunstreaker decided to break the contemplative air surrounding them.

“Shower?”

Vortex almost vented with relief. He wanted to stay as he was but he needed to prove to Sunstreaker he was okay, that although he had been knocked down he was still fighting fit and not at all the pathetic and needy mech he was portraying. “Yeah.”

~|~

Onslaught had been watching Sideswipe recharge for several hours when finally the Autobot began to stir, his systems slowly rebooting.

Once they had returned to his quarters, and Sideswipe had cycled back down into recharge, Onslaught unwrapped himself from the smaller mech and spent the rest of the early morning hours sat in his armchair, watching and turning his earlier conversation with Sideswipe over in his processor. He probably should have known all along what the twins would have suffered at the servos of their ring master, it was common practice, but maybe he just never wanted to think about. However in the dark of his room, whilst Sideswipe had lain peacefully on his berth, it was all the Combaticon could think about.

Sideswipe had such energy about him, and was not a mech to be messed with in battle that Onslaught just couldn’t imagine him being cowed by anyone; but he had heard from Sideswipe himself, that they had little control of their previous lives and been forced into situations that made his tanks churn.

Sideswipe’s optics finally came online, searing blue instantly searching the room until they landed on Onslaught, the Decepticon’s spark swirling wildly in his chest. Onslaught wished he had remasked his face but it was too late to do that now that Sideswipe was looking at him.

“Morning.” Sideswipe’s vocals were rough with recharge.

For so long Onslaught had harboured thoughts of waking up next to the red hellion, for Sideswipe to not have to leave so soon after their rare encounters, emphasising how sordid their affair really was; but here he was, Sideswipe still in his berth the morning after and he was sat in his chair. He did have to wonder what the Pit was wrong with him, and it wasn’t as if this was going to happen again anytime soon.

“Good morning Sideswipe.” But despite his stupidity, he didn’t move from where he was.

For a moment the pair just stared at one another, Onslaught giving a single silent nod, not really sure what to say to the Autobot. When the silence was eventually broken, they had both tried to speak at once.

“Still trouble recharging?”

“You probably should be getting back.”

“Oh.” Sideswipe replied disappointedly as he checked his chronometer. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” The front liner sat up and swung his legs off the edge of the berth. He realised things may be a little awkward after what he had told Onslaught, but he didn’t expect the cold indifference to hurt so much. “I’ll just go get Sunny.” His bright optics were now dim as he cast them to the floor. “Not sure when we’ll be able to see you again, think we’re going to be seeing energon bars and double shifts for a while, but we’ll get message to you as soon as we can.”

Watching the Autobot stand and stretch his frame, Onslaught remained silent, his optics now pinned to plates of armour as they shifted and spread with the stretch, parts of Sideswipe’s protoform peeking through. Sideswipe was so at ease in his presence, never on guard, more relaxed with him than his own gestalt, yet he was about to throw it all away.

But it was to save Sideswipe, from him, he kept telling himself. He just couldn’t risk losing control around the front liner again, not in light of what he now knew. “As soon as you are both ready I will have Blast Off take you back. I will also see to the ship that you hijacked yesterday to get here.”

Sideswipe cut short his stretch, dropping his arms. “Okay.” He barely whispered, not sure what to make of the situation. Drawing a deep vent of air, Sideswipe plucked up the courage to ask the question he didn’t really want the answer to. “Are…we okay?”

Gold optics flickered but remained on the Autobot. He had to do this now, before he lost his resolve. “I don’t think we should see one another anymore.” Sideswipe’s systems stalled, audibly. “I am sorry Sideswipe, but it is for your own good.”

A frown creased Sideswipe’s brow. “My good or yours?”

“It is safer for you if you do not come here anymore.” The commander responded, his tone hiding his conflicted emotions.

“And what exactly d’you think you're protecting me from?” Sideswipe growled, not quite sure what the Decepticon was telling him.

The following silence echoed loudly in both of their audials.

“From me.” Onslaught’s pathetic reply finally came.

Anger tore through Sideswipe, anger fuelled by his pain at Onslaught’s words. “How dare you decide what’s best for me. I’m not some broken mech who needs protecting. That’s Vortex!” Sideswipe instantly regretted his words, but he was hurting. “I haven’t been through everything I have, to just be treated like a victim.”

“But you are a victim of…”

“No, stop! Don’t you dare!” Disappointment and anger rolled off the Autobot on waves. “I only told you all this to make you realise that a bit of rough interfacing wasn’t going to worry me, not for you to feel sorry for me.” Sideswipe felt his tank churn. If he was honest, he had expected his revelation to cause a rift between them but he thought that would be because Onslaught would be disgusted with him, and as much as he thought he couldn’t handle that it was far easier to deal with than being treated as a victim.

Onslaught rose from his seat. “Sideswipe, I don’t feel sorry for you…well I do…no, that is not what I mean. “ Damn! Why did the Autobot get to him so much? Taking a vent of air, Onslaught started again. “Sideswipe, I do not see you as a victim but you were victimised, and last night I treated you no better than the scum who paid for you.” Onslaught kept his rage towards those faceless mechs in check.

Black servos bunched at Sideswipe’s sides. “But I told you, I’m fine. It wasn’t as if I didn’t enjoy 'facing with you last night. Frag sake Slaught, it’s not as if I don’t give as good as I get!” The Combaticon fought the urge to turn away from the Autobot, away from the pain he was causing. “You don’t need to do this.” Sideswipe moved towards the larger mech. “I’m fine, better than fine. I’ve learned to live with what happened and I’m good.” Sideswipe now stood in Onslaught’s space, his energy field searching for reassurance. “Don’t do this Slaught.” Servos unclenched and Sideswipe placed them on the commander’s chest. “Please don’t treat me like a victim.”

Whilst Sideswipe had recharged, Onslaught had been taunted by imagined images of the former gladiator and his abusers; of Sideswipe drugged and shackled, frame arching into the touch of others, unwillingly seeking the pleasure. He had tried to stop them but more he blocked them, the more the images loomed larger than life, the thoughts still taunting him now and Onslaught was struck with the overwhelming urge to protect Sideswipe, to protect him from the likes of the mechs who had frequented the rings, and from the likes of himself; and whereas he couldn’t do anything about the past, he could deal with the future, and the here and now.

Sideswipe’s near begging was pathetic, unbecoming of the front liner and it made Onslaught hate himself all the more for reducing the younger mech to this. But what choice did he have? He was a patient mech when he needed to be, planning and tactics requiring time and perseverance, but when he lost his cool then the the backlash could be devastating, and he just couldn’t risk hurting Sideswipe, wouldn’t risk losing control like that with him again; the hurt he was to inflict now, would save him physical abuse later.

But he couldn’t say the words that he had planned to _you are tainted, you allowed yourself to be used,_ words that he knew would drive Sideswipe away, keep him safe, _I cannot bear to be near you,_ words that were lies. He had thought that if he hurt the Autobot then Sideswipe would walk away from him of his own accord, but saying the hateful words was easier said than done. Sideswipe had called himself a coward, back in the common room when he opened up to Onslaught, for not having the courage to end his life and therefore the abuse, but the only coward in this room was the commander; whether he spoke the lies that would be poison on his glossa, or if he said nothing at all and let the Autobot walk away thinking everything was okay, either way he was a coward.

Large servos grasped at the smaller ones on his chest, squeezing tightly. He didn’t want to let go, not when he knew the decision he had made meant that he would never touch this mech again, not in the way he wanted too.

“I understand if you need time.” Sideswipe’s voice startled the Combaticon. “Frag, I would too if the tables were turned.” There was none of Sideswipe’s usual conviction in his tone.

Onslaught nodded, grabbing hold of the get out of jail card Sideswipe was knowingly or unknowingly offering. Sideswipe offered a smile, one that didn’t reach his optics, forcing the commander to turn his face away. Unable to stand seeing the hurt in Sideswipe’s face the commander gave the black servos another squeeze before letting go. “You really need to get yourself back to the Ark, before they send a search party for you.”

Blue optics dropped to where his servos rested on chest plates alone. “Yeah, will be best if we come in ourselves.” Stepping back, Sideswipe dropped one arm to his side, his other servo grasping at the upper arm plates while uncertainty flickered through him. Looking back up the large Combaticon, Sideswipe forced another smile. “So I’ll see you on the battlefield, until my brig time is up.”

Giving a single nod Onslaught finally turned and left, leaving Sideswipe alone.

***

Walking through his base, the commander felt like the scum of the planet he was trapped on. He had insulted Sideswipe then left the Autobot believing that they would see one another again when he knew that their sordid little affair was over. But if it was nothing more than a sordid little affair, then why was his spark withering in chest with every lead laden step he took away from his now former lover? Each step becoming heavier the further down the corridor he moved, until he couldn’t take another one. Stopping, Onslaught glanced over his shoulder back to the room he just left, a part of him hoping that Sideswipe had come after him, but he had not. Looking back down the empty corridor Onslaught resumed the trudge to his office, a swell of emotions assaulting his spark in protestation of what he doing. Sideswipe had become so much more embroiled in his spark than he had realised, but he had to keep going; it was for Sideswipe’s sake.

The door to his office finally closing behind him, Onslaught sagged against it. This was it, he had walked away and no matter how much he wanted to, there was no going back.

***

Standing alone in Onslaught’s room, numbness took over Sideswipe's spark. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what Onslaught hadn’t said and he had felt the commander’s rejection of him in his energy. Clenching his fists, the servo on his arm squeezing tightly until plating dented, he swallowed down his self-hatred. He hadn’t felt like a victim in a long time, until now, yet found he couldn’t blame Onslaught for feeling the way he did.

Sideswipe finally pulled his helm up, optics bright and defiant. It was fine, things were fine, he told himself. The only thing that had happened right now was that Onslaught had told him that he needed to get back to his faction, which was true, and Sideswipe convinced himself that he was just feeling oversensitive after revealing that side of himself to the commander. His punishment would give Onslaught the time he needed, and then it would be okay. Keeping his side of the bond guarded, Sideswipe reached through for Sunstreaker. _~We need to head off._

Sunstreaker’s disappointment momentarily spiked through in response. _~On my way.~_

 _~Meet you outside.~_ Guilt at dragging Sunstreaker away flashed through Sideswipe as he exited the room.

Suddenly Sideswipe was running through Combaticon HQ, his pedes pounding at the hard concrete cast floor, jarring his joints. He told himself again that everything was fine, that he and Onslaught would be okay, but if he believed that then why was he consumed with an overwhelming need to get outside and away from the suffocating room he had just left. After the dimness of the underground base, the early morning sun was a shock to his optics as he shot out of the concealed doorway, one of his servos instinctively shielding them while sensors adjusted to the change in light.

Spark swirling wildly in his chest Sideswipe lost all sense of balance, stumbling to the ground, scraping and gouging his servos on the rough surface as he stopped his fall. He felt too numb to feel embarrassed, or to feel the pain in his servos, so he remained where he was for a moment, waiting for his gyros to settle down, and only when he could hear the vocals of Sunstreaker and Vortex echoing from the entranceway did the crimson front liner get up, brushing himself off.

When the pair emerged into the morning air Sideswipe gave them a tight smile, Sunstreaker tilting his helm to study his brother.

“You okay?” Sunstreaker questioned, not sure what to make of the erratic energy rolling off Sideswipe.

“I’m fine,” Sideswipe lied. “Just concerned over what’s about to greet us at the Ark.”

Sunstreaker watched his brother for a beat longer. “Like that’s ever bothered you before.”

“We’ve not been AWOL overnight before.” Shrugging, Sideswipe moved away from his twin and Vortex, giving himself space to reel in his energy field. “Did you see Blast Off on your way? Onslaught said he’d be taking us back.” The sooner he got off the island base, the better.

“Tex is taking us.” The heli-former was already transforming, plates shifting while mass displacement increased the size of his form, allowing the two front liners to climb aboard his helicopter mode.

***

The trip back was uneventful, Sideswipe tuning out to any conversation between Sunstreaker and Vortex as each rotation of Vortex’s rotors took him further away from Combaticon HQ, and further from Onslaught. Watching the landscape pass by the front liner replayed his earlier encounter with the Combaticon commander; the words spoken by Onslaught looping through his processor but the words he did not throw at the front liner echoed more loudly.

Sideswipe didn’t notice that they had touched down, not until Sunstreaker was shoving at him so that Vortex could transform.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sunstreaker groused as they stepped out of the heli-former’s alt. mode, but Sideswipe only threw a glare over his shoulder before heading off into the cover of trees. Sunstreaker frowned after his twin before turning his attention to Vortex while he transformed.

“What’s up with him?”

“No idea, but forget him for now, I’ll deal with him back at the Ark.” Sunstreaker grabbed at Vortex, pulling their frames flush. “How d’you feel?” Vortex grunted but said nothing. “I doubt you’ll see us anytime soon, but if you need me…”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I know, but if you do…”

“I’ll just go on a crazed shootout drawing you Autobots out of the Ark.” Vortex smirked behind his mask, but Sunstreaker’s face became dark.

“And Megatron’s fury.”

Vortex watched the front liner for a moment, Sunstreaker’s concern bleeding through his energy. “I’ve survived this long.”

Snorting, Sunstreaker replied, “don’t know how.”

“Move your aft Sunny!” Sideswipe suddenly shouted from the forest.

“Keep your aft plate on Swipe, I’ll be there now.” Sunstreaker didn’t move though. After a moment of silence he squeezed at the interrogators arms. “Tex…”

The Combaticon, enjoying the feel of Sunstreaker’s energy around him, mumbled a reply. “Mmmm.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, will you.” Sunstreaker’s optics flickered with uncertain feelings. “I mean, don’t go pushing it with Megatron.”

Vortex gave an eerie chuckle. “Now where’s the fun in that?” Just as Sunstreaker started to protest Vortex slipped his mask back and locked his mouth onto the Autobot’s, silencing his oncoming rant to a muffled sound. Glossa plunging into the warm cavity, Sunstreaker relaxed into his hold, their kiss relaying the feelings neither of them would ever share with one another.

“Primus, get a room will you.” Sideswipe griped as he entered the clearing again, jealousy spiking through him. “You can come up with your own story for Prowl if you don’t move it now.” It was Sideswipe’s flat voice which pulled Sunstreaker’s attention, the bond between them just as flat.

“He’s right, we need to go.” Sunstreaker reluctantly pulled himself out of Vortex’s hold. “Until next time.”

Nodding, the Decepticon released the Autobot from his hold, mask sliding back into place as his visored optics tracked Sunstreaker into the forest. Stepping between the first of the trees Sunstreaker paused and looked back out into the clearing, but Vortex had already turned away leaving the front liner to watch on as he transformed and launched himself into the air.

Sideswipe had stomped on ahead again, leaving Sunstreaker to trail after him, the sound of rotors slicing through the air fading into the distance. The twins trudged on in silence, Sunstreaker’s thoughts jumping from Sideswipe’s sudden mood to Vortex and back again. Drawing a deep draught of air, Sunstreaker caught up with Sideswipe and grabbed at his arm, pulling his brother to a stop.

“Are you going tell me what’s wrong?” He pulled Sideswipe around to face him.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Optics flickered with the lie. “We just need to get back, unless you want to spend the rest of your life in the brig.”

Sunstreaker studied Sideswipe. “Why are you even bothering to lie to me, it’s not like I’ll not find out.” Sideswipe turned his face away, his features schooled. “Fine.” Sunstreaker let go of Sideswipe. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me, but know this, if Onslaught has done anything to you then…”

“He hasn’t done anything.” Sideswipe snapped before setting off in the direction of the Ark.

Dilating his optics in frustration Sunstreaker followed his twin once again, this time remaining silent. He knew Sideswipe would open up to him when he was ready, but not knowing what had clearly upset his brother began to gnaw at him. It had to be Onslaught, there wasn’t anything else, and Sunstreaker would make the Combaticon leader pay for whatever it was.

~|~

The twins looked down on the Ark from the canyon edge, Autobots gathered around the command team whilst Prowl gave out instructions, pointing in various directions.

“Looks like they’re sending out a search party.” Sunstreaker commented. Sideswipe nodded beside him, sending out a comm. request.

//Siders, where the Pit are you!?//

//Look up to your left.// Sideswipe began to wave down at the crowd.

Bluestreak did as he was told, optics scanning the ridgeline until he caught sight of movement. Focusing in on the movement, the twins appeared in his visual feed. //Mechs, you are in so much trouble.//

//Nothing new there.//

Bluestreak suddenly shouted out to the others. “They’re back. Look, up there.” The door winged mech pointed to where the twins stood, all optics following to where Bluestreak pointed.

//Sideswipe, Sunstreaker.// Prowl’s clipped tone came through on a communal comm. //Meet me in my office.//

Neither of the twins replied as they dropped down into their vehicle modes and followed the rough road down to the base of the canyon.

//Gotta go Blue, make sure you come and visit us in the brig.// Sideswipe cut the line before the gunner replied, falling behind Sunstreaker as they went to meet their fate.

~|~

Vortex headed to Onslaught’s office, not even bothering to ask permission to enter as he palmed open the unlocked door.

“Go away Vortex, I am busy.” Onslaught didn’t bother looking up.

“Door was unlocked so open house.” Came the interrogator’s retort. “You gonna tell me what you’ve done?” Knowing how much it annoyed his commander, Vortex perched himself on the desk.

Growling, Onslaught finally looked up at Vortex. “I see you are back to your annoying self.”

“As if you’d want me any other way.” But Onslaught was not foolish enough to believe that his subordinate had put Megatron’s punishment behind him quite yet. Vortex stared at Onslaught. “What did you do to Sideswipe?”

“Sideswipe is my business.” The commander rose from his seat and stepped over to the computer console, pulling up images of the base to see where the rest of his team were, changing the subject as he put out a communal comm. //Combaticons, assemble outside in ten minutes.// Cutting the link Onslaught turned back to Vortex. “Get your energon and meet me outside, today we finally learn to work as a team so events like yesterday do not happen again.”

Standing up Vortex rattled his rotors in annoyance. “Don’t think the subject is closed. Sideswipe is Sunstreaker’s business, and that makes him mine.”

Onslaught’s surprise was only hidden by his mask. “Since when have you cared for anyone other than yourself?”

Vortex shrugged his shoulders, heading for the door. “There’s a first time for everything.” The heli-former left the office, leaving Onslaught staring after him.

The interrogator’s words didn’t stay with Onslaught for long as his mind was filled with thoughts of Sideswipe, the hurt on his face and in his energy not easily forgotten. But not once did the Combaticon leader question _why_ Sideswipe felt that hurt, or why he had almost begged him not to put an end to their liaisons; the only thing he focused on was how the front liner would one day understand why he had done this, and he would, when the pain had dulled, of that Onslaught was convinced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is this story complete. However now there are plans for another 3, maybe 4 story arcs, some of them using up a few plot bunnies I have had gnawing at my ankles.
> 
> Story Arc 2: coming ~~soon~~ eventually


End file.
